


Horror Of Samson

by KieraRutherford



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: 1800's, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Blood Lust, Blood and Gore, F/M, Modern AU, old world, vampire Dragon Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-01 13:19:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 35,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12705789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KieraRutherford/pseuds/KieraRutherford
Summary: An alternative universe, where the Count of Skyhold has invited Dorian Pavus to assist in cataloging his library to prepare to move. As Dorian encounters the truth, that the Count of Skyhold, Raliegh Samson is actually a vampire. He relies on the aid of his dearest friend, Professor Cullen Rutherford and his cousin, Diana Trevelyan. To end the cruel reign of the Count before he can create an army of the undead.Heavily inspire by Bram Stoker and the 1958 film by Hammer studios; Horror of Dracula





	1. Chapter 1

An exert from the private diary of Dorian Pavus.  
I left early on the twenty third of February, just before sun up. The Count having made it very clear he wished my speedy arrival to his Keep in the Frostback Mountains. Skyhold, he called it. As far as my journey goes, I generally have a firm distaste for lengthy travels. Tevinter in the spring is quite lovely and far warmer than the Ferelden landscape. I have taken the chance to pack warmer clothing, to get through the bitter cold. I regret we have already been forced to make several stops along the way.

Crossing the Waking Sea to Ferelden was not my idea of a pleasant time. I counted no less then four times where I was unable to hold down my dinner. Once we arrived on dry land I made sure to stop at the first shop and replace my tarnished and destroyed clothes. By the time I was able to find passage, I was informed they would take me no further than Haven. While I was confused by this, I paid the guide handsomely to push us there. And push he did. He seemed a man possessed that we arrive in Haven before nightfall. I thought him near mad as he whipped the horses into a frenzy. 

We arrived on the tenth of March, just a few scarce hours before the fall of night encompassed the sleepy little village. It was the oddest occurrence, as when we arrived people were hurriedly shuttering themselves in. I had just unloaded my baggage and entered the quaint tavern when the whole odd event occurred. My driver tore off at a pace that seemed impossible to me after having worked the horses so terribly. Yet, the horses did not protest as I caught the driver’s panicked face dashing away into the night. 

Inside the tavern, the room was silent. People hovering over their steins, long strands of garlic hanging from the windows and above doorways, which left a pungent scent heavy in the air. Garlic is not an uncommon herb in my native country, but I dare say it has never been an ornament to be proudly hung in one’s parlor. 

I was offered food and drink, a heady brew and a thick and flavourful stew. As I dined the owner of the establishment, a stout fellow by the name of Varric, came and sat with me. He was extraordinarily talkative and seemed very interested in my travels. He found it odd an archivist, such as myself had come all this way. Once I explained my benefactor the room seemed to come to a screeching halt. Varric’s face, being wind burnt, even seemed to sallow as I spoke. He was convinced I was in grave danger and spent some time trying to convince me to abandon my pursuit. 

Of course, I fluffed it off as childish superstition. Something about the ‘undead,’ and the ‘children of the night’. He begged me to stay till the sun rose and then to quickly return to Minrathous. I was unwilling to make such a concession. My benefactor, the Count of Skyhold had promised me quite the tidy sovereign, and all that was required of me was to help catalogue his library. 

We had corresponded via letter for some months before I excepted the job and along the way on my journey. He was quite excited to hear of the wonders of Tevinter, the ancient architecture and hum of modern civilization. He took particular interest in learning of my dear cousin, Diana Trevelyan. She had recently moved back into the family home after the terrible tragedy that befell her parents and their estate. Having been close since early childhood, I couldn’t bare to see her suffer on that lone estate. She was all too relieved to come live with me. I promised her I would be gone no more than a few months, once I arrive at Skyhold I don’t believe it will take me long to complete the work. I have sent word to my dear friend Professor Rutherford. He is supposed to keep an eye on Diana while I am away, and I have written him to let him know I arrived safely in Ferelden.

I digress. Mr. Tethras offered me room for the night and while I was loathe to stop my journey when I was so close, I felt the bitter chill of extreme exhaustion nip at me. I accepted his offer and now, I am turning in for the evening. Come morning, I will search for someone to aid me in my travels through the Frostback Mountain and to the Keep. Maker preserve me, I feel there is something more to this and yet, I cannot place my finger upon it. 

Eleventh of March eighteen ninety-nine  
I have taken a moment to write and I find myself perplexed. Highly perplexed. It was near impossible to hire a couch to take me the rest of the way. So much so I thought my journey were to end there. That was until a dark coach, driven with four snow white stallions came to the tavern. Varric disappeared into the back, some prayer to the Maker upon his lips as he locked himself behind a heavy door. I was confused as the cabby jumped down and called my name. Speaking with him, he informed me he was sent by the Count to see to my safe arrival at Skyhold. I was greatly relieved and with relative haste and ease we loaded the coach with my baggage. 

We rumbled down the path, making quick work. I did not see much as we rode hard towards the Keep, the windows being blacked out. I felt a nervous energy crawl across my skin as we approached the Keep. A sprawling, incredibly well fortified castle reaching up to touch the very sky itself. As the coach approached, the large portcullis lifted up, as if by its own command and I bore in mind that as I entered. There were no staff to greet us and the coach man refused to continue into the Keep with me. I had to lug my baggage up to the main doors. 

As I reached the massive double doors and went to reach for the knocker, they creaked open. I can honestly say at this point I had the urge to turn and run but to my dismay I could hear the horses and the carriage racing back down the hill behind me. As I went to speak his voice caught me off guard. Smooth, rich baritones with a distinctly unique accent. I had traveled extensively in my drive to find literature of the rare and arcane, and only once before had I hard such an accent. From the coastal town of Kirkwall in the Free Marches some years ago. He appeared to me walking down the corridor of the main hall, towards me. Dimly lit by what appeared to be braziers, he beckoned me to enter and make myself at home. 

From what little I could make out of his features, he was a pale man. Eyes sunk into his ashen face. His hair was slicked back upon his head, age had been unkind and sapped the man of most of the prominent hair about the front of his forehead. Would be my best guess my benefactor was in his mid to late thirties and life had been harsh to his features. A hawk like nose perched between spectral grey eyes. He stood no taller than I, but his presence made him a mountain. I was slightly unsure of myself as I took an awkward step across the threshold. As my foot past the entryway he came down to greet me, nearly appearing before me in a flash. He quickly directed me to my quarry, a sprawling rotunda with a whole floor dedicated to walls upon walls of books. 

From classics written by the great scholar Brother Genitivi all the way to ancient written works on the Goddess Andraste. I was in complete shock and utter jubilance to see such a vast section of literature lay at my finger tips. He set out my work, to catalog and pack the entire library to be shipped. Afterwards I was to be given my pay. He had already wired me a tidy sum before hand, and the promise of further funds was sufficient. He made a note that he would be unable to see me during the daylight tomorrow as he was away on business. That he would have my meals prepared and brought to the main hall dining area. If he could, he would attempt to greet me at dinner tomorrow night. 

I acknowledged his words and before he turned to let me get to work, he brought me to my room. A quiet place just around the corner of the library and as he helped me with my bags he made one final comment. That under no circumstances was I to go into the western wing of the Keep. Of course, I have no interest in prying into the Count’s personal affairs, so I readily agreed. He seemed quite content with my words and left me to unpack. 

As I unpacked I wrote my letters home. To my dearest friend Professor Rutherford and my cousin Diana. I do hope this feeling of dread crawling over my skin is simply the change in temperature and nothing foreboding. The work is simple to me and the pay much needed. Tomorrow I will begin the cataloging, it is already very late here, and dinner has been served in the hall. I shall write again in the morrow.


	2. Chapter 2

His coal black boots clicked off the fine cobble stone street as he approached the manor home of Dorian Pavus. Shaking out his umbrella as he dipped under the awning of the front porch, a newspaper and stack of letters tucked safely under his arm. Taking a moment to thump the rain droplets from his dark leather duster he knocked upon the front door. 

“May I assist you sir?” the lanky butler peered over his horn-rimmed glasses. 

Clearing his throat, he dug into his pocket and retrieved a single business card, “Professor Cullen Stanton Rutherford. I’m a friend of Dorian Pavus, he sent word ahead that I would be visiting. Am I not expected?” 

Taking the card from his outstretched hand, the butler glared down at the neat, black printing. “Please, step inside for a moment while I announce you to the lady of the home.”  
Cullen smiled as professionally as he could, tugging off the damp rams leather gloves. Tipping his homburg cap in his hand, he knocked the droplets away before they could tarnish the fine ebony wool. Hearing footsteps on the stairs he took the papers in hand. Descending the stairwell before him, he was knocked temporarily senseless. 

Diana Trevelyan was a natural beauty. Not one to over do her look with heavy makeup as the girls in he had met in the town did. No instead she favoured a more subtle look. Soft lilac painted eyes lids made her rich emerald eyes pop against her tawny, soft skin. Lush hints of rouge were dusted upon her high cheek bones, drawing him to the only vibrant colour upon her. Scarlet red lips, grinning revealed vibrant white teeth, “Professor Rutherford! My cousin had told me that you were coming!” Hurrying down the steps she gave the butler a scowl as she reached the landing, “by the Maker, take his coat and things already. Let him in, let him in!” 

“My lady, I have been looking forward to meeting you since I heard from Dorian.” Cullen’s smile was bright as he handed his wet belongings to the now sour butler. “I brought in the paper and letters. I do hope you don’t mind my forwardness.”

“Not at all,” she hastened him to follow her into the parlor. Vaulting cathedral high ceilings, with a wall of impressive stained glass depicting the rise and fall of Andraste, gave the room an impressive feeling of openness. Through the door he could see Dorian’s massive personal library. “It’s been a few years since I’ve been able to visit. Some things never change.”

Diana chuckled into her hand as she rang a bell upon the hall table, “warm tea for the Professor, he won’t catch a death of cold within these walls.” Waving to the long couch by the fire place she quickly tossed a fresh log into the fire. 

“Please don’t exert yourself on my account, my lady,” chuckling he laid the letters and newspaper on the table. “There is a letter here from your cousin, addressed to you.”  
Stoking the fire, she quickly rose and turned to the table. “Oh, I have been waiting to hear from him. He should be back shortly.” Plucking the letter off the table she stopped, “forgive me, I am being a terrible hostess. We have only just met and here I am being so curt. Please, forgive me.” Slipping the letter back upon the table she waved at the flasks upon the hutch across from them. 

“No, thank you for the offer. No need to apologize at all, my lady.” Seeing the butler come back in the room a tray set up with polished silver teapot and bright white bone china, he motioned her to join him, “tea, my lady?”

Flittering back, she gathered up the bottom of her pluming skirt and sat a respectful distance from him. Dismissing the butler, she began pouring the tea, “Dorian told me precious little about your visit, I’m afraid. He was very excited for this opportunity in Ferelden. Pray tell, what is you line of profession?”

Taking the cup from her hand he added his own milk and sugar from the tray, stirring gently with his spoon he let a soft chuckle pour out, “I am a Professor, and a doctor. I’m sure you gathered as much from my card. You wish to know a Professor of what, I assume?” Sipping at the tea he enjoyed the soft hints of smoke from the aged earl grey herbs. “I have come to Dorian and in essence Minrathous to borrow their library. Sadly, Ferelden and the Free Marches lack a truly comprehensive range of literature. Knowing Dorian as I have, I sent word and he took my request immediately. I am a Professor of the strange and unknown. Philosophical mostly, with a tendency to lean towards the occult. Studying the old religions and their odd beliefs about death and the afterlife.” Chuckling he gave his head a soft shake, “it may seem odd for those to hear it, but the study is quite fascinating and one I have devoted my life to.”

Diana sat with her mouth half a gape as she listened to his words. It was hard to imagine the man before her, stuck headlong in an old book or musty library. No, far from it in fact. He was a tall man, as tall as her cousin at least but nearly twice as broad. Even through the dress jacket she could tell he was an athletic man. His face was soft, and showed none of his age. He had a hard-angled jaw, peppered with a darkening five o’clock shadow. Vibrant eyes that reminded her of a warm fall day, rusts and golds, dancing as he spoke. Just a kiss of feather light wrinkles hugged the edges of his eyes when he chuckled. “Well, I can’t say I understand an ounce of any of it, but it most decidedly sounds interesting. Perhaps you could share some of your knowledge, or I could assist in your search for books and tomes? I have always been of great aid to Dorian in his thirst for new pieces to add to his collection.”

Setting the cup upon its saucer he mulled the thought over, “I could use some assistance, but I am not sure the material would be something a lady would find interesting. It can be rather dry reading some days,” he chuckled as his hand reached for the muscles of his neck. A horrible habit he had when he felt himself unsure or nervous in his words. 

“Dull reading? Please, Professor, sitting in a room and watching the carts drive by is dull. Hunting down tomes and taking short hand would be a Maker sent blessing.” Peeking at the clock she huffed, “my it is late. Did you bring you bags Professor? I know Dorian extended the guest wing to you and he left instructions that I resist all attempts for you to decline the offer.”

Choking on his tea, he flushed softly, “I… I..” clearing his throat again, awkwardly he put the saucer upon the table, “I have it currently at a boarding house, just down the lane. I wasn’t sure the offer was still available seeing as Dorian himself was not here.”

Rising Diana went to the door and waved in the butler, “I wish you to call down to the boarding house. Professor Rutherford will be staying with us and he requires his belongings. Could you have them sent around within the hour?”

“Right away ma’am,” he bowed before slipping out of the room again, giving a glare towards Cullen before he left. 

“Stubborn fool,” Diana spat as she turned, “forgive my harshness, the butler can be a bit… well priggish to be honest. He disapproves of my cousin’s courtship and has been most obstinate as of late. Forgive me,” she waved him to follow her, “let me show you to your room. I shall ensure the butler collects your items.” Heading back into the front foyer she guided him up a winding, solid maple staircase, stained a dark cherry and polished to perfection. As they reached the top she led him down the hall and to the second last door on the right, “I don’t know if you’ve been in the guest wing since Dorian had it repaired but I assure you the hole is patched.” Chuckling she opened the door wide.

Entering the room, he was in awe at the drastic changes. A massive decorative frosted glass window lined nearly one whole wall, allowing an impossible amount of light to stream in. Heavy crimson fabric in a rich velvet draped down to block out any harsh light for the visitor’s rest. Across to his right was a solid wooden desk, and a small fire place. Facing the fireplace was an expensive looking four poster bed, with silken sheets and thick cotton quilt. “This is completely different than my last stay.”

“My dear cousin has a flare for the extravagant, doesn’t he Professor Rutherford?” Snickering she turned to the noise in the hall. The butler quick to tell her the coachman would be by momentarily with his things. Acknowledging his words, she turned back to Cullen, “I shall have your bags to you shortly. Have you dined tonight at all? You look very pale.”

“I… well… um…” he honestly couldn’t remember if he had eaten. His studies keeping him buried in books through long hours, and it wasn’t unusual that he skipped meals.  
Clicking her tongue, she shook her head, “that won’t do. I’ll have the cook put together a proper meal. It just so happens, Professor, that I have yet to take my supper as well. I shall see you in the dining room in say fifteen minutes?”

“Very well my lady.”

“Please, call my Diana,” flushing pink she turned quickly and rushed down to the kitchen.


	3. Chapter 3

Thirteenth March Eighteen Ninety-Nine

I have begun my work in the extensive library. Each shelf I touch seemed filled with tomes far older than I could ever dream of finding. As far back as the first Tevinter Magisters! Why I could divine the entire lineage of half of Minrathous in one book. I dare say, had I the time I might have tried to copy it down.

Instead I find my days rather quiet. I neither have seen nor heard a single soul in this impressive fortress, yet come breakfast, my meal awaits me. Lunch, and dinner as well. I cannot seem to figure it out. My benefactor also seems to be unaccounted for. I only receive a letter upon the table that he will join me later for dinner and he is away tending to his move preparations. 

Yet come this afternoon, while I was working away in the library, I was certain that I heard noises coming from the western wing off the top of the main hall. I wished to investigate it but when I went to turn the door knob to the main hall, I found it locked tight. I fear something is wrong and right now, I miss my dear friend. Cullen, this would tickle you pink! A chance to live out one of your stories. Truly a thriller of a piece. 

I remember when you sat in my study, and we poured over ancient civilization and their obsession with the forces of darkness. I didn’t believe you then but now, yes now, I question it all. Perhaps tomorrow, in the daylight hours, I shall endeavour to search about as much as I can. See for myself if the boogey man is of the mind or of flesh. 

For my own sake and my dear cousin Diana, I pray you are wrong Cullen Rutherford. Pray that those ghastly dark stories are just that, stories. Perhaps the elevation and mountain air has been causing my mind to falter. I am going to redouble my efforts to get this library complete, as quickly as possible. 

Addition entry:

He came to my room tonight, and we spoke. His voice had a calming effect on my fraying nerves. He reassured me there was no one else in his Keep and he had people come by from Haven to collect items and the like. That must have been the sounds I had heard. I did not dare bring up the locked door, for fear of the answer. /p> I truly do not believe, not entirely and I intend to get to the bottom of this. Perhaps tonight if I can. 

He did do something curious tonight. Seeing the picture of my cousin upon the book case, he asked me in great detail about her, about Minrathous, our home and the likes. He seemed entranced with the image and nearly took it with him as he left. Had I not mentioned it, he may very well have! I do not know what this means but he left my room tonight with a most wicked grin upon his face. I daresay I do not wish to know what he is thinking, I fear it’s truth too much to ask. Tomorrow, I get my work completed early, and then, then we see what secrets this fortress holds. – Dorian Pavus

Fifteenth April, Eighteen Ninety-Nine.

Sitting in the drawing room, Cullen was pouring over a tome of dark arcana when Diana jarred him. “Oh, Maker I didn’t hear you come in,” he clutched his chest, nearly knocking over a small stack of books.

Giggling Diana pulled a novel sized case up and sat across from him at the desk, “I do apologize, it wasn’t my intentions to startle you, but it was rather amusing.”

“I do not find nearly having a heart attack, the slightest bit comical,” growling under his breath he returned his focus, a quill in one hand as he began copying a section of text from the book.

Opening her box, she grinned, “I can make up for it, see?” Pulling from the case a small steno-graph she beamed brightly, “I can take short hand. It would be far quicker for you than writing it all out, and once you are done, I can type it into long form later. I have nothing else to do in the evenings.”

He had to admit, it would be far simpler and save his poor aching backside. Leaning back, he thought on it, “my lady…”

“Diana, please,” she purred.

“Ms. Trevelyan,” he corrected, trying to maintain his professionalism. “Do you know what I am working on here? What tomes and reading I need to research? Do you believe in evil?” He crossed his arms leaning back in his chair, his amber smoked eyes locked on her every reaction. 

Trying to maintain her composure she collected some paper from the desk drawer to use, “Professor, what do you mean by evil? I can see the tomes before you, but I know not what they hold.” 

“I figured as much,” taking a sip of the tall glass of icy water he nodded, “it isn’t so simple. I have spent so much of my time, searching and learning. So many different cultures, no where near each other with the same stories, same horrors. Creatures of the night that rise from their death beds to pray upon the life force of the living. True evil, Ms. Trevelyan. Evil that wears the human body like a well tailored suit jacket. Creating more abominations in it’s wake.”

Chuckling Diana shook her head, “surely you jest, Professor. Creatures of the night? Abominations? These are children’s stories meant to frighten and scold bad behaviour.”

“If only,” shaking his head he reached for another tome. “Vampires, Ms. Trevelyan, are very much real.”

Flicking her gaze over him, she saw the muscle under his rolled up, white linen shirt tense as he put pressure on the end of the desk. “I… you have me intrigued, Professor but I still cannot fathom such things being real. Surely there is a scientific means to explain such things.” 

“Bodies drained of blood? People buried and dead for years looking as fresh and alive as the day they passed? No, I wish I was joking. I have studied it and I continue to study it. One day, I will have all the answers, and perhaps the Maker will provide me with the guidance I need.” Flipping open another tome he was making quick work of the text.

Setting up, she was ready, “I am prepared to take dictation Professor, at your leisure. If you require more water, I can have a pitcher brought in.”

Cullen wet his lips with a final swig from the glass before tenting his fingers and reading aloud the passage, “the creature of great evil, the vampire is unlike all evil things. It feeds upon a living host, and a nearly willing one. Its gaze can draw in even the strongest of minds and captivate its victims under a spell like trance. Making the victim it’s willing servant. There are several methods to successfully track and destroy the evil corpse walker. Fire, is an adequate vehicle if not primitive. Another popular method would be to remove the offensive creatures head from it’s body as it rests. Placing a bulb of garlic in its mouth and driving a stake of sharpened holly through it’s heart. Holly is a preferred wood as it is known for it’s ability to fight off evil. However, if holly is unavailable, a simple section of wood, that has been blessed, is enough to send the creature back to the dark Void.” Pausing to adjust his glasses he cleared his throat and continued. “A vampire is created by a more powerful master. This master shares with his victim a taste of his own blood, only after indulging in the victim’s blood, making the transformation of his servant binding. Blood binding blood. There are theories that destroying the master may release the servants but there is little evidence, and even fewer documented successfully. Holy relics are said to repulse the creature, going so far as to burn the skin upon contact. A vessel of the beast, one who has made the binding pact by drinking of the Master’s blood but having not been fed from, can be revealed by such symbols. They cause these vessels to become erratic, and can even cause burns to their skin. Blessed water is a powerful deterrent and may leave the creature wounded. Holy symbols made of pure silver or Silverite can cause pain, or lesions when pressed to the creature’s skin. Religious readings may have an uncomfortable effect to their vessels but serve no purpose against the master.” Flipping the page, he skimmed a bit before nodding more to himself than anyone else. “Vampires may nest in a coffin, seeded with the soil from whence they were created during the hours in which sunlight prevails. Sunlight is deadly to them and they loathe even the weak rays of a rising sun. If their re-entry into their dark slumber is prevented, they become weakened since they cannot rest. Lesser vampires may even die, but no one is sure.” 

“Professor,” sensing a break in his words she finished her typing, “may I ask of you a question?’

Letting a rumbling chuckle spread through his sternum he nodded, “of course, but I do believe you just did.” 

Blushing brightly Diana fumbled nearly knocking her steno-graph to the floor, “oh, Maker forgive my clumsiness! I…” gathering the papers she’d scattered to the floor she sighed, “I simply wondered, Professor Rutherford, if you have ever encountered such creatures? They certainly sound most terrifying.”

Cullen tensed up as he readjusted his seat, trying to maintain his sense of composure, “Ms. Trevelyan, I have seen many things in my time. In my travels. Things I cannot explain, and I wish to. Perhaps I have seen things that would make the blood run cold. I do not wish to burden you with my nightmares, Ms. Trevelyan. Know that if one is careful, keeps with them the holy relics, as mentioned, they may sleep better at night.”

Diana felt a chill creep over her, and Cullen took quick notice, “perhaps this is enough for now. The time is late, and I have yet to stop of lunch. Would you care to join me in another meal?” Rising he crossed to her and extended his arm for her to take. 

“Yes, I believe that would be ideal,” Diana shuddered again as she rose, “it feels as if it has gotten colder in here. Perhaps I shall have the butler add another log to the fire.”


	4. Chapter 4

The medical journal of Dr. Sebastian Vale dated Seventeen April Eighteen Ninety-Nine. 

I have been dealing with the most interesting case here at the Institute for the Impaired. He checked himself in, claiming to be hearing the whispers of a man with red eyes. He came along willingly and was calm in the beginning, until night fell. Once the darkness crept in he became unstable. Screaming and yelling in his cell, to the point were, he tried to dash his head against the stone wall of his room. We had him moved and sedated for his own well being. 

We were forced to use a sedative, which should have provided him an ample sleep, instead no sooner had we restrained him upon his bed, did he wake and become increasingly physical. He managed to get a hold of the nurse and toss her across the room, before we could shackle his last arm. The poor woman’s head was split against the wall. It took nearly seven of our strongest staff to subdue the man. 

He would not give his reasons, just repeating something about a ‘Master’ and being called to a task. It pains me to say I am unsure what to make of this case. He calmed within several minutes and come morning he was as normal as you or I. Apologizing for his outbursts and asking to be released. His aggression and extreme mood returned once I informed him, he could not yet leave. I was glad he hadn’t been removed from his restraints as he thrashed about violently for several moments before he stopped again. 

I do not yet know what to make of this situation and I have him being watched at all hours. Once he promised not to harm himself or others we released his restraints, a group of large men at the ready to return him if he acted out. Thankfully he did not and was brought in a lunch, safe for him to consume. I have been running research on this man and come to find the name he gave was false. I sent off a copy of his finger marks to the authorities but at this point, I must do all I can to treat this poor, tortured soul. 

I must think of happier moments, something to brighten my darkening mood. I think now of my beloved Flora Harrimon. She has been my stable rock through this transition time. She tells me she is to meet with her friend Diana Trevelyan for supper tonight. She is introducing her to her new friend Professor Rutherford. I have done my research on the man. He is incredibly well learned. With many points in his learning, even a small degree in the physical medicines. Perhaps, if this case continues to plague me, I shall ask for his opinion. – Sebastian Vael 

 

Diana rang the small bell from the dinner table, her surly butler appearing to clear down the dishes, “Flora you must come by more often. I see so little of you lately. It has been so quiet without your visits.” 

“I have been increasingly busy lately, I apologize Diana,” placing her napkin upon the table she turned to speak with Cullen. “Professor, would it be such trouble if I came over tomorrow and brought my sketch book? I would love to take a quick sketch of you. I swear I will not be in your way.”

Cullen was blushing, against his will. It wasn’t hard to see why when sitting before these two radiant beauties. Diana had taken her hair down to dine and her scarlet coils gleamed against the flicker of the fireplace. Flora was equal in her beauty, with a stoic command of her feminine power. Dark ebony hair, braided and styled elaborately upon her head, highlighting the opalescence of her fair skin. He felt it nearly impossible to deny her request, “if you don’t mind me working while you work, then I see no trouble at all Ms. Harrimon.”

“Please, you must call me Flora,” she purred, “after all I’m hoping to learn some of this studying you are doing. Diana has told me it is incredible.” 

Diana flashed Flora a look as Cullen’s face soured. “I do hope you aren’t jesting with the Professor, he takes his work quite literally.”

Cullen rose from the table, tossing his napkin upon his plate, “if you’ll excuse me.” 

Diana tried to say something, but Flora’s giggles broke her focus, “Flora!” 

“Oh, let him go. He is adorable when he becomes flustered. Don’t you think so dear?” Pouring herself a fresh cup of tea she snickered again. “Tell me you don’t seriously believe the foolishness he sputters?”

Twisting the napkin in her lap, Diana tried to relax, “I don’t know what I believe. We’re raised in the Chantry to believe the Maker will hear us if we sing a song. He chose a living, mortal wife, one of his own creations to love. Who’s to say these tales are any less real then what he is reading?”

Flora twirled the spoon in the cup, shrugging her shoulders she sighed, “you take things too seriously dear. Come, you need to enjoy life. If he catches your fancy, let him know. Don’t indulge his insanity just for that face.”

Huffing Diana poured herself a cup as well, “hush. I doubt he’ll sit for you now. You’ve crossed him for sure. Silly girl.”

“I always have my darling Sebastian. He makes a splendid model, with extra perks too.” Winking at Diana she snickered again as Diana’s face lit up in a deep flush. “My dear you are too much.”

Cullen sat in his room, reading over the letter sent from Dorian. Nothing made sense. While the writing was his, his sentences and words were completely unlike him. Thinking back on his reading earlier in Dorian’s library he thought he’d seen the name Skyhold before. Rubbing at his temples he was trying to remember. Perhaps showing Diana, the letter might shed some light on his questions. It seemed like some of the letter was written in short hand. Slipping it into the breast pocket he picked up his notebook and began reading over his notes, calmly pacing towards the library.

“Come Flora, you don’t seem like yourself. Is everything alright? How is Sebastian doing?” Diana sipped at her tea, opting to add a touch more sugar while she focused on Flora.

Yawning Flora smiled, “I’m tired, nothing more. Sebastian is doing fine, but he has been kept at work for many long hours. This new patient of his has kept him from me.”

“Tired? Have you seen the doctor?” Diana hadn’t noticed it until Flora had mentioned it but now she could see soft dark circles around Flora’s eyes. 

“The fool claims I am suffering from anemia. I can’t for the life of me figure out what he means. My bedroom window is open at night to let fresh air in and I have been eating just fine.” Flora’s tone had shifted as she tugged at the high collar of her dress, almost as if it were choking her.

Folding her napkin Diana leaned in, “Professor Rutherford is a doctor, perhaps he can see something that the other doctor did not.”

Flora rose sharply, “no, no need to bother the man. I… I should go, Sebastian will be back soon for the evening and I have had such little time with him. Excuse my rashness.” 

Before Diana could say another word, Flora had gotten up and rushed out the door. Nibbling her lips, she paced back and forth. With the work she had heard from the Professor so far, her mind began to wander. Having not yet committed time to turn her short hand notes to long form, she decided she would spend a bit of time reading through the pages in the library. Something was tugging her to take a closer look. Stopping in the doorway to the study she could see him high upon a ladder, stretched out with a foot upon the bookcase, skimming his finger tips over books. Smiling she had hoped to have had a better dinner with the Professor. Waiting for him to collect a few tomes and descend the ladder she cleared her throat, “Professor, I am retiring to my room to collect my stenograph and papers. Would you still care to use my assistance?” She could work on the long form while he read, then when he was ready she could take short hand. 

Nodding he tried to peer around her, “is your company the only company I’ll have this evening?”

Blushing she nodded, “I apologize for Flora, she, she wasn’t herself today. The doctor is claiming she is suffering from anemia. I believe he is a fool and offered that perhaps you would…” the sudden drop of books startled her.

“Does she sleep with her bedroom window open? Is she usually so pale? The circles about her eyes, are those usual?” he was rushing towards his coat, as he spoke.

“Yes, no, and no. Professor, you are scaring me.” Diana began wringing her gloves in her hands, watching as Cullen packed a medical bag and began tugging on his jacket and gloves. 

Stopping briefly, he sighed, “you’ll forgive me. Perhaps you would come along? I do not know where Ms. Hawke resides, and it is critical we get there before sundown. Her very life depends on it!”


	5. Chapter 5

Fifteen March Eighteen Ninety-Nine

By the Maker, I am so sorry Cullen. I fear for my life, fear for my very soul. I have my items packed and I will make my attempt to escape when the sun comes up. Maker preserve me. Let me start with what happened yesterday. As I stated I was going to look into the happenings of the Keep. I nearly wish I never had. It was a couple hours before dinner and I had finished my daily goals, so I decided to go explore the nature of the sounds. To my surprise the door was unlocked! I should have known it wasn’t unlocked for my curiosity, but for my doom. 

Opening the door, I walked into the main hall. It was well lit, which surprised me since the Count had told me there was no one here. Again, as I walked towards the west wing, I heard more noise coming from behind the door across from me. Carefully I went to see what had caused it, when the door flew open and a beautiful young woman came running through. Her blonde hair was tied in two long braids that trailed behind her as she ran towards me. She cried that I must help her escape, to get her away from here. I was in complete shock with her sudden appearance and took several quick steps backwards. 

Her panicked face seemed to twist in the light and I was certain I saw the glint of fangs when she sneered at me. All I could think of was the long evening conversations with Cullen. Grabbing the pendant I wear under my shirts of the blessed Andraste, I raised it high and began reciting the Chant. Her face twisted as she shrieked loudly, flying back from me. Taking advantage of her retreat, I turned and rushed back to my room. Bracing the door behind as best as I could. 

I did not dare come out of my room till dinner, at which time the sounds had stopped. Dinner was served for me, and again a note upon the table apologizing for his lack of attention. His note mentioned he needed the library packed and settled within the week and he had, once again, wired a sum to my account. I remembered Cullen’s words and I took precautions. Even making sure to gum up the hinge to the main hall. There was no way I was going to be locked in when I go to make my escape. I know he would curse me if I didn’t deal with this mess before I left and after the sun rose, I again, ventured out. Searching the main hall, I found a passage that led to the cellar, or what I believe was once the cellar. 

I brought with me a section of wood, sharpened to a point and a make shift mallet. I knew I was not safe. I had recited the prayer Cullen gave me, so long ago, and fumbled about in the dark. It was there I saw it. One, only one. A coffin, laid upon the freshly turned dirt. If my guess was correct it would be the woman. Swallowing hard, I went to it, slid the lid back just enough to see inside. To my horror she was there, lips flushed bright, blood still clinging to the monster’s fangs. 

I scanned the room and could see nothing more. If the Count was one of these foul creatures, his coffin was not within the walls and I knew then that I was in danger. Returning my focus to the task at hand, I set about dispatching the wretched soul. Just as he instructed me, I placed the spike over her heart and with as hard a blow as I could muster I drove it home. She screamed, Maker did she scream. Blood oozed from her lips, her eyes as she clawed at the wood, the coffin lid and had I not the sense to move, she would have clawed me too. She writhed for several moments before everything fell silent. I could tell the sun was up and I was exhausted. Taking a final peek in the coffin I was shocked to see her returned to what might have been her original form. Her angelic face smiled at me, eyes closed softly as if in a peaceful sleep. Her fangs gone, and the blood that dripped from her eyes cleared away. I said a quick prayer to those that passed, and I closed the lid. 

Returning to my room I fell into a deep sleep and when I woke I began packing. I can only hope that it isn’t too late. I must get away before sundown. I must make my way to Haven, to Varric. He will aid me, I know it! Maker, please guide me now and protect me. 

Additional written entry, same day.

I saw them. People who came to the Keep. I tried to get out the main hall door, but it was sealed tight. I called down to those carting goods away, but they laughed at me, speaking in a tongue I did not recognize. I did manage to catch the word Minrathous. He is heading to Minrathous! Maker, I am trapped, and I know not what else is hidden within these walls. Evening is falling, and I can only barricade myself in this room. By morning light, I will escape. It is a hike to get to Haven, and I do not know if I am able to make it, but I must try. – Dorian Pavus

 

Diary of Sebastian Vael Eighteenth of April Eighteen Ninety-Nine

There was a break thru today. The man’s finger prints came back to a Maddox. Just Maddox as I was assured several times by Officer Donnic. He is calm during the daylight hours, if a bit odd. He had requested six cubes of sugar. Interested in see what he would do I sanctioned the sugar cubes. Calmly and quietly he went about placing the cubes upon the window sill. Then he returned to his writing. He writes upon page after page, nothing that makes any sense, just continuous writing about ‘red eyes,’ and a ‘Master’. 

Come the next day when I went to check on him, the sugar cubes were gone. Instead he had a collection of flies. Making sure not to alert him I watched as he carefully placed the captured flies on the web of a spider hanging in his window. It was a curious sight. One I have yet to figure out, despite his words.

I sat with him for a while today and I asked about the sugar cubes. He denied any knowledge of any sugar. He repeated again that he was a well man and ready to leave. I asked him to sit and go over some information and I immediately saw him become jumpy. It was then I surprised him with a question on flies. He shot back to the edge of his bed and began fidgeting with a scrap of paper. He went on a long rant about power. How feeding a lower form to a higher form would create more power. A power that a stronger energy could take and then absorb for untold strength, even immortality itself. It was clear he was still unfit to leave, and I made a quick excuse to exit the room, as to avoid the question while I was within his reach. 

I now shift to something more personal. Flora has fallen ill and was advised by a doctor that she is suffering from anemia. I sent her to her friends to relax and spend some time within good company. When I returned that night, I was in a state of shock. Diana Trevelyan and Professor Rutherford were standing in the front parlor discussing something with my maid Merrill. Something about the purchase and placement of garlic plants. I had a chance to speak to the Professor in private and he has me convinced he can treat Flora’s disorder. He left a strict set of instructions that the house would need to adhere to and I made sure the staff got a copy. I am afraid for Flora. She is deathly pale, and her mood is not her own. 

Professor Rutherford also happens to be a doctor and while he is not a doctor of the mind, I would like him to see Maddox. Perhaps there is something there his skills may see that I do not. As for his methods with Flora, I do not dare question it. He is firm in his beliefs and I am left with little choice in the matter. Flora’s bedroom window is to be shut and latched at night. Garlic plants to be placed by the window and by her bed side as she rests. A medal made of pure Silverite placed around her neck with the symbol of the blessed Andraste stamped into it. 

It seems so strange yet, he is convincing, and I have seen much in my time. I am not above trying something unconventional if it proves to work. Come this morning she seemed to me, to have more energy and colour. I will be sure to thank him when I see him tomorrow. He is busy today, or so he claims, and I look forward to his opinion on Maddox.

By the Maker, I hope this is the worst of Flora’s illness. Were something to befall her, I do not dare think what it would do to me. We are set to wed in the summer, and perhaps some of this is the rush. I will speak to her tonight, and reassure her that there is no need to worry if we have each other.


	6. Chapter 6

Diana yawned as she finished the last stack of papers. Tapping them into place she tucked them into a folder. It was just a little past noon as she picked up the neat file and headed to the library where she knew he’d be. Opening the doors wide she sighed, “I do apologize for the time I took in getting these completed but I have them now.” Placing the folder upon the desk she clasped her hand to her mouth to stifle the giggle. He was half slumped down upon the lounger, a book in his hand, as he gently snored. He was wearing the same outfit he had worn the night before. 

Unsure what to do, she stood still for a moment. Were she to wake him, she was certain it would have been an awkward scene. Yet she was in the room, she had spoken, and if he woke as she left it would be as awkward if not more so. She stood there, watching his chest casually rise and fall. Catching the hint of his scarred lip as it twitched faintly in the bright light of the room. 

The desk chair was pulled away enough that she could slip between the desk and sit without making any sound. Sitting, she noticed a stack of fresh papers. Picking up the first sheet she began reading. His writing was neat and legible, unlike the usually hasty scrawling of her cousin. He had been documenting a section of text on the symptoms of Vampirism. Reading through the paper carefully she stifled a gasp. 

‘The first clue the vampire has afflicted the patient is the paleness of their complexion. The vampire does not wish to drain the life of the victim yet, to create another abomination. No, it takes joy in slowly pulling it towards the darkness, to bind its will to their own. If it were to turn the victim into a fledgling too soon, the master risks losing control of the victim. A vampire must be welcomed in, otherwise it cannot enter. Once it has been granted permission they have free reign of the household, and so far, nothing can be done to prevent their re-entry. Only garlic plants and strings of garlic have proved useful in deterring the creature from it’s quarry. 

Two small puncture wounds upon the neck of the victim, over the pulse, are the only marks the creature leaves. It may take up to a month for the vampire to claim it’s victim, but in time it will. Unless the following preventatives are put into place. Garlic plants by the bed side of the marked victim. Garlic oil, spread over the thresholds, and bundles of garlic over the windows. All windows and doors to the victim’s room must be sealed, not a single crack left open less the monster find a way in. Around her neck must be placed an amulet of pure silver or Silverite, a holy symbol pressed into the medal and blessed. If the victim’s health fails, blood must be given via the veins to ensure their life force can restore itself. This will prevent death, but your fight has just begun. Now you must hunt and destroy the creature before he claims his fledgling.’

Mumbling each word under her breath, she held her hand over her mouth. Stopping the scream bubbling in her throat. Her hands shook as she tried to place the paper back on top of the tidy pile. 

“Perhaps not as light reading as you had hoped, Ms. Trevelyan?” Cullen was leaning up on his elbow watching her reaction as she jumped and muffled her shriek into her hands. “Is there something of interest in my papers, Ms. Trevelyan?” Swinging his legs over the edge of the couch he stretched his shoulders back, hearing a satisfying snap, crackle, pop he stood. 

Quickly regaining her composure, she smiled, “now, Professor Rutherford, what makes you say such things?” 

Shaking his head, he snickered, “you are a terrible liar, Ms. Trevelyan. Very unbecoming of a fine lady."

“A fine lady?” she purred the words back, trying to throw him off as she tried to settle the heavy beat in her chest like an angry war drum. 

“Yes, I said fine lady. But you are attempting to skirt my questions. Ms. Trevelyan, the paper you were reading, hand it to me,” his voice was commanding as he held his hand out, awaiting her motions. 

“I…”

“Now, Ms. Trevelyan.” He took a firm step forward, unbending from his original outstretched position, eyes searing through her. 

Swallowing hard she plucked the sheet off the pile and held it out, “you are imposing upon me, Professor. You…”

“I shall ask of you something in the future, in the same commanding tone. It is a matter of life and death that you obey and quickly.” Taking the paper, he skimmed it through, giving a nod, he returned it to her, “place it upon the pile. You must have questions, and I see I have startled you. Sit, some brandy and water will restore your colour.” He moved to the decanters upon the hutch along the wall behind her. Pouring a bit of brandy into a glass he added a healthy splash of water. Swirling the amber coloured liquor in the glass with his palm he set it before her, “drink. This won’t be any easier without it.”

Sipping the liquor, it’s sweet honey hints were pleasant as the water countered the usual burn in the back of her throat. Feeling her head level, she placed the glass down, “tell me,” looking directly up into his eyes she felt the lump shift in her throat. “Is Flora, is she a fledgling?”

“Not if I can stop him.” Cullen leaned against the desk, another musty, old tome open wide, “she has been marked, and he is trying but so far I have countered his efforts. I cannot stress how much danger there is now.” Pulling a letter from his breast pocket he flipped it over a couple times, weighing it as if it may contain the answers to everything. Drawing a deep breath, he opened the letter and faced it towards Diana, “I believe this is in short hand, and I’m afraid I never learned to read it. Would you kindly decipher this for me?”

Taking another sip from the snifter, she took it with trembling hands. She recognized the writing, and immediately her blood began to cool. “It’s Dorian… he… he says… oh Maker no!’

Cullen was beside her in a moment, holding her to him as her face blanched. “I’m here, I have you.”

“I... I can do this.” Shutting her eyes tightly for a moment she continued, “he says he was being held prisoner in the Keep, Skyhold. That the Count…”

“The Count is a powerful vampire,” Cullen sighed, “I suspected as much.”

“He… is going to try to escape and will send word once he arrives in Haven, if he lives… Oh Maker,” she shuddered as she struggled to hold back the tears. “This letter is dated a week ago...”

Cullen felt her arms around his waist and he held her to his chest. She was warm, and soft, and he could feel her breaking apart under him, “did he say the name of this Count. It’s important, Miss…. Diana please.”

"Yes,” gathering her strength she remembered the name readily enough. “Count Raleigh Samson, of Skyhold.”

He knew the name, Maker did he know that name. Not wanting to startle her anymore than she already had been he held her in silence till she pulled back. Remaining calm he tugged a handkerchief from his pocket, “my lady.” As she dried her eyes his mind raced, his fingers finding the scar above his lip. Absentmindedly his fingers traced the edges of the aged wound. 

“You know this Count, don’t you?” Diana snuffled as she dabbed at her eyes. “You’ve been hunting him, that’s why you came here. To find information to hunt him.”

“I…” Cullen drew in an awkward breath, coughing into his sleeve he held his hand up. “It is a long story, one that is painful.” He returned to the couch, flopping down his hands combing through his hair before they rested upon the base of his neck. “I… I honestly don’t know how to begin, let alone where.” 

Diana could see the pain on the man’s face, something completely new since his arrival. Whatever his story was, it was clearly deeply upsetting. “Prof… Cullen, you don’t have to tell me if… if it hurts. I had no intention of hurting you, Maker forgive me.”

Chuckling he sat back, letting his hands drop to his lap, “it isn’t your fault. I have never spoken of it before. Perhaps, it is time I do.”


	7. Chapter 7

June Fifteen Eighteen Eighty-seven

Cullen laughed again as Jessica Amell plucked a flower off the low hanging branch while their carriage clicked along the gravel road. “My dear, you are beautiful,” Cullen sighed as he wrapped his fingers about her waist. She tossed her blonde curls away from her face and laughed warmly, “you believe this mass of tangle is beautiful, my darling I believe those books have gone to your head.”

They were rolling down the road back to her cousin’s home in Kirkwall. They had just wed a month prior and now they were visiting Leandra Hawke, Jessica’s favourite Aunt. Her family had approved their young love, both just reaching their eighteenth year. Cullen was a well disciplined young man who’d served in the army for a brief period before entering medical school. Jessica had begun her schooling to become a nurse and both were happy for a time. Their carriage came to a stop outside of the Amell estate, and Jessica was beyond excited to get out to see her family. Her spark, her energy unbound as Cullen watched with reverence.

He collected their bags and brought them to the door, her Aunt embracing him warmly and led them to the guest room. “She likes you,” Jessica giggled as she half tackled Cullen to the bed. Once Leandra left them to unpack and prepare for the day.

Laughing warmly as he allowed her to knock him over, he smiled, “I am the luckiest man alive.”

“Don’t you forget it Dr. Rutherford.” Kissing his nose, she squealed as he easily rolled them over to hover over her. “I never will, Mrs. Rutherford.”

There first day in Kirkwall was quiet, uneventful even. Leandra apologized for the kids being unable to return home and instead offered to show them around town. Touring about, seeing some local sights they ended up at the port. While the smell was something Cullen could do without, Jessica was taken with the sights and sounds. 

Something odd caught Cullen’s attention as people began to quickly pack up their belongings and rush towards their doors, “what is the matter?” 

Leandra quickly shuffled them down the streets towards her house, “it’s an old superstition in these parts. Everyone needs to get in doors before the night falls. I… don’t ask anymore, please.” As they pushed through side streets they were stopped by a sad looking man, begging upon the sidewalk. “Please, ma’am, sir, spare some coin for dwarf-dust. Please, I ain’t asking for much.”

“Raleigh Samson, you need to get indoors,” Leandra tugged at the man’s arm trying to lift him up, “stubborn fool! Do you wish to be caught, by him!” 

Wrenching his arm free he snarled, “might be a better life then begging on the streets Leandra. You don’t understand, you got yourself a fancy house up in High Town. You forgot what it was like living down here, in the dirt.” Laughing he looked the group over, “I’ll take my chances, but you might want to get these pretty ones inside, the sun is going down. Tick tock, tick tock.” 

Jessica screamed as the man’s lips snarled up and Cullen put himself between them, “get out of here, vagabond!” 

Snickering again, Samson paced backwards slowly, uttering “tick tock,” repeatedly upon his lips as he disappeared. 

“Quickly,” Leandra drew them through the last few streets and ushered them into the house just as the sun crested down over the town. Cullen watched as she locked the door tightly, and left instructions for Bogdan to permit no one in until after sunrise. He watched her and Bogdan rush about shutting and latching windows. Leandra uttering a prayer to the Maker as she moved through the house with a speed he didn’t think a woman of her advanced years could produce. Once the last window was sealed tightly she turned back to her guests, a smile upon her face, as if nothing strange had taken place, “come, let’s prepare for dinner.” 

Still confused Cullen followed Jessica, and Leandra to the dining room. Once everyone was seated and drinks were served he found the courage to speak up, “please, speak plain with me. You know more than you let on. What is going on in Kirkwall?” 

Leandra swallowed nearly half her glass before she spoke, “you would think me a fool. But… it is too dangerous not to know. What I am about to tell you may sound fanciful, as if being spoken by someone with a weak mind, but I can guarantee you it is true!” Waving to her butler Bogdan to refill her glass, she sat up straight, “there is a name in this part of the country, the world, that no one speaks. For fear he may appear and do to you what has done to so many. Evil. That’s what he is. Pure, evil.”

“Auntie…”

“Hush child. Cling tightly to your husband tonight, and keep that pendant of Andraste close to your neck.” Waving her hand over her niece she turned back to stare Cullen in the eyes. “We are afeared of the undead, Cullen. He has created them, and at night they come to feed. Feed upon the life that beats within your breast.” Her hands were trembling as she held her glass. “There is nothing we can do to stop it. No one will do a thing… No one knows how it can be done.” She began to weep at the table openly. 

Jessica came to her Aunt’s side and cradled her against her chest and stroked her hair, whispering coos and words to calm her. Cullen was struck. He had read many things in his boredom between studies of medicine and anatomy. He had read about the cults that believed in creatures of the night, books from Nevarra which explained demons, and mythical creatures. Excusing himself he quickly paced off to the library. There had to be something he could do, something that would make sense, yet something inside of him believed her. Believed every blood chilling detail she’d spoken. “If a creature can be created, it can be undone,” he mumbled to himself as he scanned the books. 

Darkness blanketed the eerily quiet town and by lamp light Cullen dug. Pulling tome after tome from the family library. A stack of papers and a fresh quill and ink pot set out. He began his reading. He didn’t come out of the library till the sun peeked its luminescent head above the highest building in High Town. 

Stumbling through the door to the guest bedroom he smiled wearily at his wife. “My darling, are you alright?” Jessica smiled back, as she swept across the floor to him and guided him down to the bed, “you didn’t come to bed last night. Are you well? Dearest?”

Rubbing his temples, he groaned, “I was doing some reading, and lost track of the time. Your Aunt has quite the library, but it isn’t enough. “

Rubbing his shoulders, she shook her head, “you spent the night in the library? Darling what for?”

“I was looking into what your Aunt said. Some of….”

“You believe her?” Jessica chuckled as she came around to sit in front of him, her golden curls spilling over her shoulder.

Cullen didn’t know how to take her. It was uncharacteristic of her to be so harsh. She was usually known to believe the best in people and their words. Normally she was so loving and affectionate towards her Aunt. “Did you sleep well?” He watched as she tugged at her house coat, tugging it tightly about her neck and chest. 

“I slept fine, just fine.” She stood and turned from him quickly, “I am famished. We should hurry to breakfast, you can nap once we’ve eaten.” 

He was tired, and a full belly would aid in his sleep. “I’ll let you dress and see you at breakfast,” rising off the bed he brushed her hair away from her face. “I love you,” turning to head back out the door he paused, “is the window open?”

“I opened it this morning, to get some fresh air. Go, I’ll be down shortly.” She ushered him out the door before locking it behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

June Sixteenth of Eighteen Eighty-Seven

Cullen woke shortly before dinner, starving and groggy. Washing up and shaving his day-old stubble he cleaned up and prepared for the rest of the evening. Heading down to the living room he noticed the unusual silence. Catching Bogdan in the hall, he was quick to ask the man why it was so quiet, “Ms. Amell and her niece have gone out. They should return within the hour. I was told to give you this from Ms. Amell.” Bogdan held out an old leather-bound book, tied tightly with a section of rawhide. 

Taking the book into his hands he turned it over. It was old, worn and well used. Untying the strings that held the book closed he went to read the first pages, ‘Personal Diary of Malcolm Hawke,’ turning to say something to Bogdan he noticed the man had disappeared. 

With the house empty and nothing more to do, he went to the library. Pouring himself a tall glass of water he got comfortable in the chair by the window. Flipping through pages, he read quickly. Each word was more and more interesting. Malcolm spoke of a monster, an undead creature he had tracked into the dessert a few kilometers from Kirkwall. There he cornered the beast, Corypheus, it called itself. Malcolm thought he had vanquished it. Thought he had ended the reign of the creature and returned to town. He had journeyed to the house rented by the inhuman thing. In the basement he spoke of multiple coffins. Lining the walls of the basement. All infested with the abominations Corypheus had sired. Knowing no other way to free the tortured souls his last entry was his apologizes to Leandra, and his three children. That he was going to the manor to end the last of the horrors, to make the streets safe for his children, and future grandchildren to walk at night. 

Cullen clapped the book shut and rose. There were clues Malcolm left in the book, clues to tomes he needed to research, to find what Malcolm couldn’t. It was clear by the writing, clear by the look Bogdan had given that Malcolm did not return from his hunting trip. Cullen believed it now, whole heartedly. 

“Sitting in the library again,” Jessica’s voice broke him from his concentration as he carefully pulled a book from the shelf.

“Just a little light reading, you know me,” he smiled as he took her in. Pastel pink shimmed before him, her favourite colour. She was wearing one of her favourite summer dresses, with a new add on. A black, thick, silk ribbon tied about her neck, “that ribbon is new.”

Her fingers danced up and over the material, “it is. Do you like it?” She gave a twirl, her skirt billowing out as she giggled.

He couldn’t help himself as he chuckled back, “its lovely, my dear. Are you ready for dinner? I’m sure the hour is getting late.”

Stopping she nodded, “will you be joining me tonight, or have you more reading to do? It makes no difference to me, I am exhausted.”

“If it doesn’t offend, I would much like to read a bit more tonight. Not as late as last night, I promise.” Rising he came to her side, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Maker, your hands are so cold! Do you feel well? My darling, perhaps some brandy and water, you look terribly pale.”

Pulling her hand away she scoffed, “I’m just tired, that’s all. I’ll see you at dinner, I wish to freshen up before hand.” Turning from him she quickly moved towards the guest wing.

Something was off, as Jessica was never known to him at least, to wear things about her neck. Stashing the small book into his breast pocket he went to find Leandra. The hour being late and dinner sure to be served soon he knew Leandra would be in the parlor. Careful not to startle her, he took the seat beside her, “I know of Malcolm. I read his book, as you left it for me to, I assume.” He watched her wordlessly nod, “I believe it. But I must know, you fear the things returning. How did Malcolm fair?”

Leaning towards him, her voice was barely above a whisper, “a fire. It consumed the whole house to ash. The city salted the earth and left it where it lay. He may have dealt with the creature’s underlings, but he only slowed the elder one. I believe he escaped, from whatever death trap my husband thought he had laid. Now, now he is searching for his bride. That beggar on the street. I believe he is a thrall to the creature’s will. His day walker,” she shivered as she spoke, red rimmed eyes belying her sleepless nights. 

“Jessica has been acting strangely around me. Does she seem the same to you?” Cullen mindlessly fingered the book in his pocket as he awaited the answer he knew was coming.

“No, I haven’t had much time with her to be honest. She has been claiming she is tired. We went out a bit today, but while shopping in the market she disappeared. I lost her for Maker only knows how long. Then she was beside me, giggling about the price of the fish at the monger’s stall.” Leandra pulled her shawl tightly over her shoulders, a pendant of Andraste sitting high upon her neck, fixed to a sapphire ribbon.

“Did you give her the ribbon? I’ve never known her to wear one,” Cullen pointed out the amulet.

Shaking her head, she chuckled, “no, I have no idea where she got that.” Raising from her seat she acknowledged Bogdan standing patiently in the doorway, “dinner is served, Cullen. Come my boy, you will need your strength.” 

Everyone sat at dinner. Nothing stuck out in Cullen’s mind as being off as they ate. He was too busy in his own thoughts trying to put the pieces together. As dinner wound down, Jessica excused herself, claiming to be drowsy and wishing to retire for the night. Cullen went to kiss her, and she pulled away, moving down the hall and off to their room.

Unsure of what had occurred he wrote it off as her exhaustion. Heading back into the library he shuttered himself in. Latching the windows, he double checked each one, being sure to honor the warnings Leandra and Malcolm gave. Sinking back into the books he began making notes in a fresh ledger. Each jot note leading him further and further into fresh horrors. There was precious little outside of ancient cultures, and their rituals but he clung to each scrap of knowledge and by the time he was the wiser, the coo coo chimed in at nearly three. Rubbing his tired eyes, he packed up his papers and put the books back, trying his best to tidy behind him. 

By half past the hour he had restored the library to its usual state and being cautious not to wake the household he made for his room. There was a chill in the air as he rounded the hall and crept down the passage. Standing before the door to his room, the one Jessica should be sleeping peacefully in, he could feel a draft coming across his feet. It was summer yes, but in Kirkwall the summer nights were completely opposite. With the entire city sitting upon the coastline the evening air was always bitterly cold and left a dampness that seeped into the bones. Nearly as cold as a Ferelden in autumn. A dread trailed up his spine as he reached for the door knob, everything he’d read rushing to a blank as he slowly turned the handle. 

Peeking through the slit of the door he saw nothing of remark. No signs of Jessica moving about or that anything had been disturbed. Pushing the door wider, something shuffled just out of his line of sight and the curtains to the window rustled. “Show yourself! In the name of blessed Andraste, I demand you show yourself!” His tone was firm, despite the tremors running through his legs. Nothing returned his words and for a time he stood still. Listening, straining to hear a sound. Silence returned his answer to him. “Jessica?” Calling out to her he, knew something wasn’t right. Taking the lamp, he had used to find his way down the hall, he shone it into the room. 

Carefully he took a step inside, pointing the lamp ahead of him to see into the pitch blackness of the room. Feeling beside the door his hand wrapped around the handle of his walking cane. Wielding it tightly he felt more secure. As he moved forward he realized Jessica hadn’t spoken a word, hadn’t seemed to stir. Fumbling along the wall for the switch to turn on the electric lighting, he managed to find it. “Jessica, shield your eyes love, I’m turning on the lighting.” Pushing the button in he looked over the room.

Nothing was out of place. Every article of clothing hung as it had during the daylight hours. Each piece of his grooming kit and hers sat neatly upon the desk, as it had been early that evening. 

Coming into the room further, he caught the flutter of the curtain. The double French doors leading to the small balcony were wide open. Hastily putting the lantern down upon the desk, he rushed to secure the latching. Peering into the darkness of night as best as he could, he struggled to see if there was anything outside. Surrendering to his inability to see more than a foot beyond his arm, he turned to apologize to Jessica, for turning the light on. Instead he stood in horror. 

She lay in the bed, as if undisturbed. Her usual rosy cheeks, now sallow and sunken. Her lips cracked and white. Two perfect puncture wounds upon her neck. He stumbled to the ground as he tired to race to her side. Half crawling he reached for her, checking for any signs of life. Anything at all that he could do. Placing his head to her chest, he heard no heart beat. Her skin cold and clammy. Taking the mirror off the stand he held it to her face. Praying as he watched for something. Nothing. No ghosted breath upon the reflection. She was dead. His heart sank as he let out a howl that would have shook the most rabid of wolves to it’s core. Burying her hand against his face, he wept. 

“Cullen, is everything…” Leandra stood in the doorway, a candle in her hand. Upon entering the room, she promptly extinguished it. “Get away from her… you must get away from her…” 

Raising his head, tears still pouring down his cheeks, he couldn’t speak. Just shaking his head as he clutched her hand in his. 

“Please child, you must come to me,” Leandra held her arms open for him.

“She’s… she….” Sniffling he rose and went to Leandra, her small frame cradling him like an oversized baby.

Rubbing his back, she sighed, “he has claimed her. She is his now.”

“No… no….” he wept heavily, and for everything he wanted to believe it was a dream. A terrible nightmare, but he knew. All the reading, the signs, and the marks. She would be a fledgling come night fall, and she would need to feed. Yet how could he do it. How would he be able to do what must be done.

“We’ll call Dr. Anders come morning. He will pronounce her dead and we will have the wake right away. She will be entombed in the family crypt. Come night fall… you must save her soul.” Leandra pulled him back, desperation in her voice, “we cannot leave her like this. She must be permitted to rest in peace.” Tugging him from the room she led him to her chambers, “there’s a couch here, and it is safe. Rest child, I’ll see to the immediate work.”

Cullen collapsed upon the couch. Exhaustion and loss washing over him in waves that made everything feel like a dream. Closing his eyes, he slipped into a deep sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning blood and gore ahead

When he awoke, Leandra was there. Dressed in black mourning with a glass of brandy water, ready for him. “Come child, you must eat and prepare for the day. What a long, terrible day…” 

“It... it wasn’t a dream….” He took the glass from her and sipped at it. Reality sinking in. Jessica was gone, and soon in her skin would walk a creature that cared only for it’s next meal. “Has… did the doctor…” his legs shook violently as he took his first steps. Trying to calm his stomach and steel his nerves. 

“Yes,” Leandra held his arm and walked him to the library, “you can dress in here, I’ve had your belongings brought down. I did not think you wished to use that room.”

Nodding he entered the library and she quietly shut the door behind him. Changing he did his best to freshen up, but everything felt like he was simply going through the motions. Mindlessly repeated muscle memory playing out against his inactive and shocked mind. He wore black, as much as he could find in his traveling case. Shaving and tending to his hair came from reflex, as his mind wandered back to the knowledge he had gained. Jessica would become a fledgling at midnight, her sire not far away ready to teach her, train her, and embrace her. If he could tend to her before hand, he might catch sight of the one who did this and stop them. It would be risky but with Jessica gone, his own life seemed meaningless.

He would require items. Some that he had on hand, others he would need to either make or purchase. Then he would need to gain entrance into the crypt. This would be the hardest part, especially if it was guarded. He began packing his needed items into a messenger bag. Blessed water, a mallet, an amulet of the blessed Andraste, a large image of the Lady. His hands were shaking horribly as he grabbed a piece of wood from by the fireplace. Sitting in the chair nearest the fire he began to whittle down the wood, saying a prayer over it as he worked. It would be time to put Malcolm’s research to work. 

“Are you ready to eat, child?” Leandra called through the door.

“Yes, ma’am,” Cullen called back stuffing the sharpened stake into the bag, and returning the knife to it’s sheath. “You may enter, I am appropriate.”

Leandra threw the doors open, “good, have you….” She saw the bag, and the stake sticking just out the top before he threw the leather flap over it. “Are you prepared for it? I couldn’t save my Malcolm, but perhaps I can save you.” Taking his arm, she led him to the dinning room, a full plate of breakfast foods set out before him. “You need your strength, first of all. For what happens tonight, no man is prepared for,” a tear slid down her cheek as she sipped at her morning tea.

“I must know. Is there no way to reverse it, to make her whole again any other way?” Picking at the meal he was starving and despite the sorrow his belly won out.

“Malcolm tried. But once the victim dies, it is permanent. They become one of them.” Leandra closed her eyes and gave her head a shake, “there is nothing you could have done, or do now to change this. He wanted her, and he would have gotten her eventually. You have the knowledge to take her from him. To send her to the Maker’s side. That is better than others, better than what my Malcolm saw.”

Cullen listened to Leandra, learned that she followed Malcolm that night. Saw the building burst into flames before her. She spent every ounce of her waking time reading, learning and studying but she wasn’t as strong as her husband. She couldn’t carry on his work. Pulling another bound book from the hutch beside the table, she slid it across to him, “there is an archivist in Tevinter. One of the best in the world, he would have access to more tomes, more knowledge than I could ever find. Don’t let this consume you child. Become the doctor she wanted you to, but learn this as well. Save those you find, don’t make the same mistake I did.” 

Taking up the book, he began pouring over it as he ate, “for Jessica, I will complete my training in South Reach. Then, then I will be sure to learn all I can and hunt them all down. Every last corpse walker, till the world is purged of their kind.” He was seething now, and he wanted revenge. He would catch the creature responsible for Jessica’s death and he would rid the world of their filth. Finishing his breakfast, he listened to Leandra, being sure to commit to memory the funeral plans. Leandra even knew the schedule the guards rotated about the crypt which would give him a better chance at catching his quarry. 

The day dragged on, the funeral, people offering their condolences. It was draining on him and he tried to stay alert. Leandra tended to him, a caring woman who’d seen much. She apologized that her children couldn’t return in time for the funeral. He fell asleep at the lunch table, and Leandra tapped his shoulder, getting him to the study where she eased him onto the couch. “I’ll be back to wake you well before night fall. Rest, you will need it.” 

Time melted into nothingness as he lay upon the couch in the library. It was his new haven, his new safe place. After the sight of the early morning hours, he hadn’t the ability within himself to re-enter that room. Leandra had set up garlic plants by the window, and strings of garlic bulbs along the threshold. Whatever was to befall that room, she had taken no chances. By the time she gently woke him he was already starting to come about, “what time is it?” Rubbing at his eyes, things were still blurry from sleep.

“Just a little after five in the evening. I know it’s early, but you’ll need to get down there and set up. You must stop her before midnight. Her sire will be awaiting her, and you must be quick! You have to return before night falls over the city. Older ones don’t need the stroke of midnight to set them upon the living.” Leandra began carefully packing a medical bag with the items he would need for his task. Water in a flask blessed by a Chantry Mother, a mallet, a stake made of pure holly, an amulet of Andraste and a prayer book. “This will be less conspicuous as you make your way to the crypt and back.”

Taking the drink left upon the end table, he quickly sated his thirst. The water was warm, but it was wet, which took the cotton bite of his tongue away. Rising he swiped the droplets of water from his chin, “Leandra, I don’t know if I can do this…” the thought was daunting to say the least, yet he knew it must be done.

“Were I able to take this burden from you child, I would, but I cannot. My shoulder is beyond repair and has been for some years. I cannot swing the mallet hard enough to deliver the freeing blow,” hanging her head she snapped the medical bag closed. 

Sweat was clinging to his skin, slicking his hands and matting upon his scalp, “Leandra… I… what if I fail?”

“Then she will feed upon you. Your life force will be the first of many she steals, and while you sit at the foot of the Maker, her path of death and blood will begin. There is little that can change that.” Turning to face him, she sighed. “Cullen, there is little we can do for her other than break the hold that thing has. Take her from him. It will enrage him, force him to you, and you will be in grave danger. Keep tight the blessed and sacred relics in this bag. They will save you in the darkest moments. Everything I know, Malcolm wrote in that book. Keep it with you, build upon it and perhaps one day we may find the root of this evil and wrench it free. Can you promise me? Promise me, no matter what you’ll try. Please! For an old woman who’s seen and been through too much, promise me.”

He swore to her he would as he took the bag, offered her a final comforting embrace and set out upon his journey. Arriving at the crypt he was relieved the guards had gone for the evening, perhaps their dinner awaited them. Setting to work he quietly slipped into the tomb. It was tight and confining within the concrete walls. Several open shelves with wooden boxes, lacquer peeling and metal handles rusted. Cobwebs littered the corners and only two stone slabs sat in the center of the room. One with the words Malcolm Hawke etched deep into the polished grey marble. The other held the clothed body of Jessica Amell. Hands shaking, body cold and sweat near constantly at his skin he placed the bag upon the tomb of Malcolm Hawke. He knew it was empty, as the body was never found. Leandra had told him Malcolm had been consumed in the burned down house. Whatever Malcolm had used to torch the building he had gotten caught inside and there his ashes remained. 

Pulling the amulet, stake, hammer and blessed water out, he laid them upon the solid stone slab. Her body lay behind him, draped in a ceremonial family shroud. It caught the corner of his eyes as he set the glass flask down. It swirled and began to pulse, a faint blue light flickering in the dim room. He made note of it, being sure to search Malcolm’s records and write a few of his own before the night was through. 

Easing about he saw the outline of her form. Each delicate curve of her body. The body he had mapped with lavished attentions, learning where each freckle kissed upon her breast, her back and her shoulders. It was killing him inside to see her laying there. With trembling hands, he slid the cloth back, revealing her face, shoulders and stopping just above her waist. She was wearing the same pastel pink summer dress she loved, and it took several deep breathes to calm his racing heart. 

Her features were as he remembered. Golden tossed tresses laid to frame her pale face, cheeks still tinted a soft pink as if she had been speaking to him only but a moment ago. There was no death mask upon her feminine features, only a glowing radiant beauty that seemed other worldly. He wanted to touch her face, kiss her lips. Her incredibly plump and red lips.

Red. Turning, he looked at the water flask. Taking it in his hand he waved it near her. As it got closer to her, it’s faint glow became brighter and brighter till the water looked less like water and more like a vivid beacon. A warning beacon. Its glow broke his focus and then he knew, he realized the power she would have over her victims once she awoke. Placing the water in his pocket he grabbed for the mallet and the stake. There was time, to stop her, but her sire was held by other standards. Once the sun finished cresting down over the ridge and darkness blanketed over the city, Cullen was at their mercy. He needed to hurry and despite the mixed feelings he knew there was only one option.

He had read the prayer a thousand times before, having been raised in the Chantry and a choir boy in his youth. Uttering it now he witnessed her grimace, and snarl in her undead slumber. Her lip curling up to expose two pristine, sharp white fangs. It was what he needed to see to steel him forward, to force his hand. The proof she was no longer his angel, his once beloved wife in the eyes of the Maker. Now, now she was something all together foul. Gripping the stake tightly he placed it over her heart. Finishing the prayer, he gripped the mallet tightly, till his knuckles turned white. Swinging back, he threw everything he had into the strike, wanting to be done with this nightmare as quickly as he could.

Her eyes flew open and she clawed at the section of wood buried in her chest. Finger nails tearing away the fabric, like sheers exposing the gruesome puncture mark. Crimson oozed from her chest, neck and face as she tore at herself, an inhuman howl rendered from he lips.

Cullen threw himself backwards, unable to speak or move as he stood locked to the spot his eyes cast upon the gory scene before him. Shielding his eyes into the crook of his arm, he couldn’t bare to look on another moment. Mumbling his own prayers to the Maker he stood firm, his back pressed against Malcolm’s stone slab. It was a few moments later he heard the silence filled the tight quarters of the tomb. Lowering his arm, he felt the ominous presence about him fade. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew the bottle of blessed water, and it too had returned to its usual clear state. Swallowing hard, his mouth near bone dry he looked over at the body upon the stone tomb.

Jessica’s face was peaceful, a soft smile upon her lips and there wasn’t a single mar to her delicate skin. Slowly the death mask's grey shadow began to fall over her delicate features. Only the protruding section of wood sticking from her breast was left to show what he had witnessed was real. Feeling his heart steady and grow heavy he looked through the crack of the tomb door. It was slowly becoming dark and he had little time to return to the manor. 

Repacking the bag, minus the stake he began his return to the home. He was racing against time, the crypt set to fall into darkness first. As his boots rang off the cobble stone he felt the coldness of night bite into his bones. He had pocketed the bottle of blessed water and now it was warm against his breast. Tugging his jacket open as he walked he was stunned to see the flask glowing once more. 

It was then he saw him. Samson, upon the corner he usually frequented. He was different. Unlike when Cullen first remembered seeing him but a few nights ago. He was breathing heavily, his eyes blood shot and his skin incredibly pale. Like a man sick, or possessed. Returning his eyes to the bottle, concealed in his jacket he realized it. Samson had been taken by the elder vampire, and was now one of them. Reaching into his bag he gripped tight the symbol of Andraste, as he tried to side step Samson, who was sticking to the shadows.

“You took her from me!” Growled the man as he took a step forward. “She was to be mine!” 

Cullen was surprised at the speed of Samson and just narrowly missed his initial attack. Trying to back up again and put some distance between them he felt something sharp slice his face, nicking his lip and just missing his nose. Thrusting the idol of Andraste before him he began reciting the chant. 

Samson howled at the sight of the object, “I’ll find another! You won’t stop me!” Hissing again he fled back into the encroaching darkness. 

Cullen raced back to the manor, Bogdan watching from the window opened the door and ushered him in. Locking them behind him, he took the bag from Cullen’s hand, “sir, your lip!”

“I… I was attacked, but I haven’t been bitten. Where’s Leandra?” Taking his handkerchief from his pocket he held it to his face, where the throbbing pain began to leech through his body. 

Leandra was coming down the steps, two at a time, “Cullen, is that you? Please, by the Maker…”

“Yes, Leandra. I’m here. I need… Stitches possibly.” The blood kept pouring from his lip and try as he might it didn’t seem to want to stop.

Leandra grabbed for some items and waved him back to the parlor, “sit. He sliced you… damnit.” Grabbing a bottle with the image of Andraste on it she poured the contents on a cloth. “I wish I could tell you differently, but this is going to burn. You may black out. Do not feel ashamed. We must cleanse the poison from you.” Holding the clothe out she waited for him to acknowledge her. Taking his handkerchief away she nodded to Bogdan who moved out of Cullen’s line of sight. Tilting his head back he drew in a deep breath before Leandra laid the clothe upon the slash. 

Burn was an understatement. It was as if his whole body had been placed into the very depths of the fire pits. He wanted to scream, cry out but he held it all in. Taking it as his personal punishment for not being able to save her. To kill the creature that stole her from him. As he tried to endure it, his vision blurred, then the edges became cloudy and finally he passed out.


	10. Chapter 10

Diana sat back in her chair, unable to utter a word as Cullen brought her a fresh glass of brandy water. “They say it gets better with the telling, I doubt they thought it would be difficult to tell something so fantastical. So, story like, without incurring a straight jacket response.” He placed the glass in her hands and went to add another log to the fire.

“Do you… Leandra… Dorian… How?” Diana was fumbling with what question to ask, there were so many in her head.

Chuckling he poked the fire, stirring up the embers as he placed the fat log down. Closing the grate, he went to sit next to her. “I believe I know what you’re trying to ask. I finished schooling in the medical field after a couple years. A good understanding of the human body comes surprisingly handy in my line of work. Then I began hunting all knowledge down. When I lost Samson that night, he fled Kirkwall. There were hints of him here and there. I dispatched very few of his abominations over the years since he fled. He must have been careful not to draw my attention. So much so I guess I became lost in the learning. I hadn’t heard a hint of him in so long, I wondered if perhaps he had been slain by another hunter.” Easing back into the chair he sighed, content to share his information with her. “I stumbled upon Dorian several years back. One of his expeditions to Ferelden, in South Reach. Our small library had a tome of some renown and the owner wished to sell it. Dorian, seeing it’s true worth came all the way from Tevinter. Something unheard of to our sleepy little town. I had to meet him, ask about his personal collection. He reveled in my knowledge of dusty books, as he called them, and we bonded over dinner and some trips to neighboring communities. As he may put it, he swept me off my feet.” Chuckling he checked his pocket watch for the time. “I collected quite a few degrees in theology, anthropology and several others mostly with the assistance of Dorian and his knowledge of books. I owed him, and he found my research intriguing. He was the first one to listen to my writings and ideas without turning his nose up.”

Diana finished her drink and set it upon the coffee table, “I believe you. And I want to thank you for telling me all this. It… it couldn’t have been easy. You are an incredible man, Professor.” Her cheeks flushed as she looked at him.

Leaning forward with his elbows upon his knees he chuckled warmly again, “I believe that is the brandy and shock speaking. I’m quite the boring little hermit, my lady.” Taking her wrist, his fingers slipped to her pulse, a quick look of his pocket watch and he smirked. “You are feeling better, and I’m glad your colour has returned. Your heart rate, is a bit high however.”

She was waving herself, her cheeks bright red, “I can assure you it has nothing to do with the brandy.”

Throwing his head back he let out a barking laugh as he shook his head, “my lady, I do not believe you.”

Puffing her cheeks up in defiance she snorted, “I may have had a few brandies to settle my nerves, but I assure you, I can handle my liquor, Professor.” Taking her hand from his she straightened her blouse. “I happen to find you rather charming and intriguing, is that a crime I am unaware of?” 

It was Cullen’s turn to blush as he nervously rubbed at his neck, “my lady, I’m flattered.”

Crossing her arms, she rose and went to the fire, fanning her hands before the grate, feeling the warmth spread through her. “I apologize for my forwardness, but I fear if I were anything less you would not notice. It seems you prefer the company of musty tomes to that of educated women.”

Before either could get a word out, or say anything Dorian’s butler came through the doors. “Madam, I have two messages for you. A letter from your cousin, and a message from Dr. Sebastian.”

Waving him to the desk she nodded, “thank you, when will dinner be ready?”

“Within the hour, madam. Is there anything else I can do for you before dinner?” Clasping his hands before himself the butler eyed over Cullen, giving him an indignant look.

“No, if we require anything else, we shall ring the bell.” Diana waved her hands as she made her way to the desk. Plucking the letter up from the table, she paid the butler no mind as he bowed and left the room. Reading over the first envelop it was addressed to Professor Rutherford, “this one is addressed to you.” Holding it up she placed it down beside her. Reading the other letter, it was also addressed to the Professor. “As is this one, it seems.”

Cullen got to the table quickly, “for me?” His brow was furrowed tightly as he hastened to get to the desk. Reaching out he took the first letter. Skimming it over he shook his head, “it seems Dr. Vael requires my services. His patient he wanted me to meet tried to escape today. Managing to nearly kill himself in the process. He also wanted to thank me for the well being of his fiancée Flora.” Looking up he flushed, “I… am reading this out loud to you. I hope I’m not impressing upon you.”

“Not at all Professor. Anything I can do to help?” she sat back upon the couch, pouring herself a glass of sherry. 

Smiling more to himself than to anyone else he put his head down. Picking up the next letter he read it through a couple times before finally turning back to Diana. “I have wonderful news! Dorian is alive and will be here within a couple weeks at the longest.”

 

Letter Addressed to Cullen Rutherford dated March 30th Eighteen Ninety-Nine

Dear Cullen,

I have made it down the mountain to Haven. Varric informed me I was a sight of death but welcome to him. The locals pressed medals of Andraste to my forehead and chest, dumped a bucket of blessed water on me and said prayers over my sleeping body for three days before I was finally strong enough to speak. 

Today is the first day I have been well enough to travel, and to write. Varric has kept me safe and fed, saying he too witnessed the Count and his minions bring his belongs down. He took a boat across the Walking Sea and by the time this letter arrives to you he will be in Minrathous. You have an edge on him. He does not know you are there. Does not suspect that he is walking to his doom in facing you. Further-more he believes me dead, and this letter, Maker willing will reach you in time. 

My library holds every secret to beating him and I hope you have had the chance to make use of it. Keep Diana safe. I fear he is looking to make her his new bride! I spoke to Varric about the blonde-haired woman I set free in the Keep. She was a travelling lore hunter. Someone akin to my heart. Her name was Calpernia, that was all that could be made out by the people. I had hoped to tell her family or find them once I returned but I fear I have found nothing about her. Don’t let my cousin become like her! I beg you, take her close to you and keep her well. 

I hurry now, and begin the long journey home. I shall spend no time searching as I usually have. No, I will be there to aid you in destroying this creature. Then together, we must come back. We must clear that Keep out! No one knows what secrets it contains, and if it could lead to the eldest of these things then we must use it. I am far to weak or I would have done so myself. 

I have paid Varric to keep people from the place, and to prevent the mob from burning it down. I left with a small case of clothes and my life. I cannot ask for more. I shall see you soon, my dearest friend, and we shall share a bottle of my oldest whiskey! Oh, I rant, but it is so good to be able to freely rant! By the Maker I am saved, and by your impressive knowledge I am alive. I owe you more than simple words can ever say Cullen! I shall be home soon, then we get to work. – Dorian Pavus

Cullen grinned wide, “thank the Maker. You, crafty bastard!”

Diana let out a snickering cough as she shook her head, “my what language Professor, and about my dear cousin too. Who seems to care for me a great deal, to leave me in your capable hands.” Smoothing the crinkles of her gown she licked at her lips. Maybe the liquor had something to do with it, maybe it was the lighting or more so the look of him enjoying himself. His laugh was infectious and his smile divine as she cozied into the couch. He was attractive, and she found he had a chemistry about him that pulled her in.

“I hadn’t forgot our conversation before the news arrived. Dorian wishes me to keep you close, and I will honor my friend’s request. We shall see what comes of things,” grinning wide he stuffed the letters into his jacket pocket. “did you need to freshen up before dinner, or do we have time for a cocktail?”

Grabbing a decanter from the table she poured him a drink and pat the seat beside her, “a small drink before our meal sounds perfect.”


	11. Chapter 11

April 2nd Eighteen Ninety-Nine

I made my way to port today, and was in luck the weather was on my side. Sitting below deck, I couldn’t be happier for the steady pace and lack of choppy water. If my guess is right, we should make landfall in the week. Then travel by coach I shall arrive at my front door step no later than the twenty second of April. 

Varric has promised me he will spin enough of his horrible stories that no one will want to go near the old Skyhold Keep. There is no way of knowing what lies within. If we are lucky the blighted thing kept some form of documentation on its cursed life. 

There may even be a clue to the whereabouts of his sire! Believed to be the ancient Corypheus. I found scrawling in the ledger of that book on Minrathous. Who ever this Corypheus is, he once was from Tevinter! An ancient Tevinter, some several hundred years ago. Why, he would barely recognize it now, if all this can be believed. After everything I’ve seen, I believe it! 

I can only hope Cullen has been kind to Diana. She has been through so much in the last six months. Before she came to me, her parents were killed in a terrible accident. She hasn’t spoken about it since I had her sent to live with me. Her brother, Jacob sent word of her frail state and asked if I could take her while they sorted through the family estate. Upon receiving the letter, I immediately called for her. 

Jacob, her eldest brother by several years should have never wasted a moment. He lacks the empathy she so desperately required. When she arrived at my door, all those months ago, she was a shell of the vibrant woman I once knew. Being the youngest in a noble line she suffered the usual treatment by her parents. They had their heir, Jacob, their spare, Alex, and then the one who shouldn’t be there, Diana. Her mother adored her, but her father ignored her very existence. She tried so hard to earn Ulrich’s affections, but he was a cold man. I fear his lack of attention to her would cause to her seek attention from unwanted parties. 

To help her through everything, I took her with me to seek out tomes, and ancient writings. Books Cullen had written to me that he had found word of in this piece of writing and elsewhere. Things he needed to finish his own writing. He was so close to all the secrets these monsters hold dear and I can only pray he has them now. 

I digress from my original point. Diana had lost her spark, as it were. My teaching her of the archives and discerning a fake from an authentic piece had kept her busy, but it hasn’t reignited her passions. She in turn doted on me instead. My lover was her primary interest, and I adored her all the more for her attentions. 

Now I know it may seem horrible to say, but Cullen has been without Jessica for nearly twelve years. Twelve years of hunting, reading, and working. I can’t honestly say that he has ever rested or enjoyed life from the moment he put her to rest. He isn’t a young man of eighteen any longer and it would be cruel not to try to help him. Help Diana. They are so much a like it is nearly brilliant and perhaps it was sly of me to play a distant matchmaker. Even more so when I was being an unwitting target of a powerful vampire. 

I do hope that my letter reached Cullen in time. It can only aid in his preparations and if the beast seeks Diana, there is no finer a champion than Cullen. I pray to the Maker that he found the information he needs in my library and that Diana has been of as much help to him as she has been to me. 

It is growing late, and my health has not yet fully recovered. By the time we make landfall I should be stronger. Strong enough that writing like a teenage girl in her diary won’t be such a joy as it is now. A brush with death does weird things to a person. Again, I am rambling away. I shall write again once I feel better. – Dorian Pavus

 

April Nineteenth Eighteen Ninety-Nine

Cullen dug through the tomes again, his eyes burning as he tried to force the words to be clear. He startled when hands touched his shoulders, “Diana,” he sighed as she giggled and came around before the desk. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I kept hearing a tapping at my bedroom window and I was too scared to look.” Tugging her dressing robe about herself she shuddered. “I know well enough not to open the windows, Professor.”

Running his hands through his hair he shook his head, “curse him. I am running out of time!” Slamming his fist down upon the book he growled. “It’s here, the answer is here, I know it!” 

“You’re tired. It’s no good to look when your mind is crying for sleep.” Tugging at his arm she dragged him away from the desk. “As long as we keep the doors shut, windows shut and do not allow anyone we do not know in during the night hours, we’ll be fine.” 

Cullen couldn’t help but chuckle, “you learn well. I’m guessing you’ve told the butler this as well?”

“I threatened to remove his nether regions with the kitchen shears if he even thought about answering the doors at night. Or opened a single window.” Snickering she led him to the couch. “Come, rest.”

Stopping just shy of the couch he shook his head, “you need rest as well. We can’t begin sleeping during the day hours.”

“Professor Rutherford, I believe the lack of sleep has gone to your head. Come, lay down. I will rest, do not worry for me.”

Shaking his head, they tussled. As well as two exhausted people could. Together they tumbled to the couch. Giggling as they crashed down, Diana landing atop of him, they both blushed. Awkward hands tried to find safe ground to alter their positions. Several fumbles and slips left them a renewed tangle of laughter. In between muttered apologizes and stifled snickers, it happened. Their faces hovered just a few inches from each other, and their eyes met. 

Diana felt the shock travel through her, as she gazed into those melting pots of pure glimmering copper. Leaning forward she took the risk. His lips just brushed hers as she sighed, the feather light touch enough to cause goosebumps to travel across her skin. Closing her eyes, she held her breath and went for it. Pressing her lips to his, she prayed.

Her forwardness shocked him at first but the soft, velvet plushness of her lips against his had his head swimming. His body reacted, when his brain couldn’t grasp the situation before him. His lips moved with hers, his hands trailing up to her hips, a hand sliding up her back to reach her face. Cupping her cheek in his palm he delighted in the feel of her supple skin against his worn hand. She smelt of soft lavender and mint. Delicate and with a hint of spice, a truer note about the woman cresting over him now, could not be written. He had admired her beauty on the first day he met her. Been astounded by her intelligence and willingness. And been captivated by her patience, her kindness. He was loath to admit it, but he had neglected this aspect of his life for too long. Since Jessica, he had shut everyone out, even his own siblings. Every spare moment, every waking and extra hour he sat in countless libraries, studying, learning.

Now, there was a beautiful, smart woman blessing him with the first bit of human interaction he had received in years. Someone who understood him on a level he felt comfortable sharing. The threat of the moment erased, and a sliver of freedom and purity restored. After several delirious moments, he let her break the kiss. Licking his swollen lips, he shook his head, a smirk plastered wide, “now, Ms. Trevelyan, how is this going to help me sleep?”


	12. Chapter 12

April Twenty-Second, Eighteen Ninety-Nine

Cullen pulled off his hat as he was announced into the hospital. “Dr. Vael, I presume?” He held his hand out to the man, a broad, pleasing smile upon his lips. Taking Cullen's hand Sebastien sighed. “I’m so glad you have the time to see me, though I wish it were under better circumstances.” Sebastien filled out a form attached to a clip board before handing Cullen a temporary visitor pass. “The patient I wanted you to meet has recovered, and will be leaving to return to the asylum today. The fool managed to squeeze his thin frame between the bars to his cell and jump. It would have been a masterful escape, had his cell not been two storeys up.”

Clipping the badge to his breast pocket, Cullen followed Sebastian down the corridors towards a private wing of the hospital. “How did he survive the fall? That seems impossible to me.”

“You would believe so. Incredibly he walked away with lacerations and a broken leg. Had he not knocked himself senseless he would have possibly gotten away. As it was, once he regained his senses he bit the attendant that found him.” Stopping just shy of the last room, Sebastian held his hand out. “I warn you now. This man seems completely normal, with all his capacities in check. Don’t let him fool you, he is a danger to himself and anyone near him.”

“He bit the attendant, you say. Has he exhibited any other odd mannerisms? Something that you may not have seen before but have attributed to his behaviour?” Cullen thought back on his research.

Pausing, Sebastian nodded, “there are some things I can think of that have left me quite puzzled. He came in speaking only of ‘red eyes’ and a ‘Master’. There also was the fly incident,” rubbing his chin as he spoke he shook his head, “his mental state is weakened, and I believed he had a break before arriving at our facility for help.”

“Flies?” Cullen tugged out a notebook and pencil, jotting down a few quick notes as Sebastian spoke.

“Yes flies. He requested six cubes of sugar. Being curious as to what he had hoped to use it for, I sanctioned them. He used the sugar to coax flies, which he captured and began feeding to a spider that sat upon his window. When I asked him about it, his answer was a rant on power. Something about feeding lesser energies to a being then consuming them for vast untapped power. It was insane of course.”

Keeping his face as straight as he could, he scribbled away, “yes, most interesting.” Flipping his book closed and tucking the pencil away he smiled again, “may I ask him a few questions?” 

“I don’t see why not. However, I doubt very much you’ll get any sense from the man.” Digging a key from his lab coat, Dr. Sebastian unlocked the door to Maddox’s room. Holding the door open for Cullen he announced them to Maddox, “Maddox, I have someone I want you to meet. He’s very interested in speaking with you. He’s a doctor as well.”

Maddox was strapped down to his hospital bed, a look of pure indignation set upon his features. “I don’t want to speak to any other doctor. I just want to go home!”

Pulling his notebook back out Cullen kept to the shadows of the room, “Maddox, you spoke to the good Dr. Vael here about some things. I’d like to ask a few questions, nothing imposing I assure you.” Keeping his book up high, to block his lips from Maddox’s view he kept a close eye on the man. “You spoke of ‘red eyes’ when you came in. Did those ‘red eyes’ hurt you?”

Maddox became very quiet, and stilled his movements in the bed. “The red eyes, they… they tell me to do things. Want me to do things… I don’t want to do. But I can’t disobey!”

“I understand, it isn’t your fault Maddox.” Cullen jotted another quick note. “He calls you at night, needing your help during the light hours. Doesn’t he?”

“You believe me! Yes, yes that’s it! I’m not crazy, I… he has control of my will you see. I can’t be blamed, I can’t!” Maddox shuffled about, panic rising in his voice.

“Hush now, I believe you. I may be able to help you, if you help me just a little Maddox. Just a little.” Cullen noted the time, just a hair past two in the afternoon. He would be safe to ask his questions but only for a bit longer. If it was Samson himself, he would have the power to control his poor vessel once the sun fell from the sky. “Can you tell me where he is, Maddox? Where is he hiding during the daylight hours?” Maddox reacted almost exactly how Cullen thought he would. He became agitated, starting to tug against the restraints. “Easy friend, he can’t reach you here. I can protect you.”

“No, no one is safe from him! Samson will drown the city in blood, till he finds her.” Maddox’s began laughing uncontrollably as he rocked back and forth, as far as the restraints would allow. “He wants the cousin of the archivist! Her scarlet hair haunts his dark dreams. He’ll make her his second bride.”

Freezing in his place Cullen’s eyebrows furrowed tightly, “second bride? Who will be his first?”

Stopping his movements and laughing Maddox deadpanned over to where Sebastian stood, “his.”

Cullen nodded, “thank you Maddox, you’ve been of great help. Only one question left, nothing that would upset the Master, I promise. Where did he find you?” He caught the shocked, white face of Sebastian in the corner and he was trying his best not to lose focus now.

“I was begging on the streets, down by the pier. It was late, and…” he groaned loudly, “I can’t! I can’t!”

“No more,” Sebastian rushed towards Maddox as the man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fainted. 

Nodding Cullen let Sebastian tend to the man as he walked out into the hall. Scribbling a few notes for himself he smiled. At least there was a starting point. In all of Minrathous there was only one port. At the least he could try to look into ships docking in the area from Ferelden and from there, maybe just maybe track down Samson and his cargo. It also helped to know Samson’s target was Flora and then Diana. 

“He’s sleeping peacefully,” Sebastian came out of the room, re-locking the door behind himself. “What, may I ask happened in there? That was… uncomfortable.”

Cullen chuckled warmly as he returned the book to his breast pocket, “I assure you he is somewhat of sound mind, and within a week he shall return to what he once was. A sad beggar upon the streets. Unfortunately, there isn’t much more I can say.” Seeing Sebastian’s face quirk up Cullen nodded, “how is Flora? Come, walk me out please.”

“She has been better, more colour in her cheeks each morning. Yet, her personality remains the same. She paces by the windows at night and mumbles to herself. The oddest thing occurred last night, now that I think of it.” Sebastian stopped at the door to the building, taking the badge back from Cullen and signing him out. “We usually attend the Wednesday benedictions, but she out right refused to go. Hissing at me even as I started to hum some of the Chant!” 

Those words frozen Cullen in his place, “has her bedroom window remained closed? Has anyone called upon the house at night?”

“I honestly haven’t any idea. Each time I prepare to leave for the evening, Maddox has had an episode where I have been called to attend. When I manage to get home, it is late in the morning hours, if I return at all. I have a cot in my office, I have sadly used more lately than I care to admit in polite company.” Sebastian rubbed at his neck, rustling his fingers through his cinnamon toned hair. 

Cullen caught the guilt in the man’s ocean blue eyes, “it may be a late lunch, but perhaps we can step out to your home. I would very much like to see Ms. Flora again and be sure of her recovery. If you have no objections.” He was masking the panic beginning to well up. 

Samson had marked Flora and had intentions of making her his first bride. Now if there was no one to watch over Ms. Flora there was no way of guaranteeing his efforts to protect her were still in place. Standing as firm as he could manage he watched Sebastian stew over the idea before a grin broke across the man’s face and he ushered them both outside, to catch a coach. 

Diana fumbled with the papers about her, trying to finish converting the prior nights notes into full pages. “Maker is a funny one with this nonsense,” she grumbled fixing the ribbon on her typewriter. Cullen had allowed her to stay with him upon the couch in the library and together they had laid and talked till the next thing she remembered was morning light filtering in through the curtains. Dorian had gone through the trouble of placing that couch directly where it was, so the sunlight in the morning would glare the unwilling snoozer to stir. It had been rather effective, despite the relative comfort and large size of the piece of furniture. 

“My lady, do you have a moment?” the butler called from the doorway, “there is someone here to see you.”

Diana momentarily froze, thinking of the creatures of the night, until she realized it was just a touch past eleven in the morning. “I’m coming!"

“No need to get up on my account, cousin,” Dorian’s voice tittered off the vaulted ceiling as if the holiest of spirits swirled it over her. 

“DORIAN!” she cried as she raced towards him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. “Oh, Dorian, you’re safe! You’re home!” 

“My dear,” he grunted as he weakly returned her embrace. “I adore you, truly I do, but I haven’t yet recovered completely.”

Jumping back, she waved to the butler, “lunch for two, a heavy lunch! Dorian needs to recover his strength. Tell Felsi to make extra! Fresh tea as well, the largest pot we have!”


	13. Chapter 13

Newspaper Clipping dated April Twenty-Third, of Eighteen Ninety-Nine

‘It is with great sadness in our heart that we are forced to commit our dearest Flora Harimann to the Maker’s side. She leaves behind her fiancée; Sebastien Vael originally of Starkhaven. She is survived by her mother, father and two siblings. A service will be held today at one in the afternoon before the body is entombed in the local crypt.’ 

Cullen tossed the paper across the table, “damnit! If only I had of checked up on her. I should have known he had gotten more powerful in the years since Kirkwall!”

“Short of sleeping beside the poor woman, what more could you have done?” Dorian coughed as he sipped at his steaming cup of tea. 

“I haven’t found it yet!” He roared back, “I have spent morning, day and night trying to find it and I haven’t. Instead I waste my time with... with foolish daydreams!” Sinking into his chair he rubbed at his temples. “I’ve wasted too much time.”

Dorian let out a laughed before he turned to cough again into his handkerchief. “Diana can be distracting but not in a horrible way. Did you tell her what you were looking for? Nearly half that library, she put together.”

“No,” Cullen’s face tinted pink as he tried to shake off the sudden flush of warmth. “She’s been taking dictation for me. I read the passage and she takes short hand. When she retires for the evening or is bored she puts it into long form for me.”

Quelling his throat with more tea Dorian nodded, “she is wonderful with dictation. And she’s not…”

“Dorian, I don’t have time for your fanciful…”

Diana’s yelp broke the silence as both men scrambled to reach the library. There in the centre of a small pile of books, Diana stood beaming from ear to ear, “I have it! I found the book you were looking for! Cullen, I… I mean Professor Rutherford.” Blushing a deep crimson, she gave a forced smile as she saw the wicked grin across Dorian’s face. “I didn’t mean to… did I startle both of you?”

Dorian burst into a fit of giggles, as Cullen stood slacked jawed. “My darling you are priceless!” Gripping Cullen by the shoulder he gave his head a shake, “what did I tell you? She’s a priceless gem amongst common stones.”

“I believe it’s the right one, I… I could be wrong.” Blushing still, she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Sheepishly she held out the small novel, no larger than a private journal. Clearing his throat Cullen stifled the smirk that was threatening to sprout over his face. Crossing the room, he tenderly took the tome from her hands, “thank you Diana.” Taking the book, he ran his hands over the faded lettering, “Forgotten Verses by Sister Justinia,” his eyes flew wide, “this... this was thought destroyed!” He wrapped his arms around Diana in a burst of joy. Spinning her around they were laughing together, caught up in the excitement of finding the archaic tome. 

Dorian was silent as he watched the joyous celebration before him. His instincts had been right, the two were a perfect match for each other. Had it not been for the death and potential for untold evil he could see something much more between the two. 

“I… uh,” Cullen’s head came back down from his revelry and the heat rushed up his neck. 

Sensing the moment passing Dorian chimed in, “well, it seems I’ve missed a lot while I was away.” Strolling over to his desk he sat down, “if you two can focus for just a little while longer. I believe we can defeat this evil and both of you can get the happily ever after you so direly deserve.”

Both tinged brightly as they mumbled half apologizes to each other. Cullen set her down and both ushered over to Dorian. Together they worked through the pages, bit by bit, being ever mindful of the time. “I need to get to the crypt before nightfall,” Cullen was packing a medical bag as he spoke. Stocking it with the tools of his trade. 

“Wait, you can’t go alone!” Diana reached for his arm, tugging him away from the bag. “Samson may not know you are here yet, but he will have learned from your last encounter. He’ll be ready and standing by. As soon as night comes he’ll fall upon you!” Her eyes were wide with fear as her breath came hurried from her. “It’s suicide!”

Shaking his head, he continued to check his equipment, “not so much so. I know he will be there and I know he will feel it when I sever the ties between him and his fledgling. I also know that he will rush to her side. If I am smart enough, and fast enough I can use it to my advantage. Release Flora and then lay in wait. When he goes to inspect her, I will strike him down.” Flicking his wrist out, a heavy metallic thunk filled the room. 

In his hand sat a sharpened metal spike. Engraved along the body was runes, symbols of blessings in languages and texts that Diana could bare make out, “this? This is your plan? Lay like a slice of cheese upon the trap and hope you take his head before he eats you?” 

“Dorian is still too weak to make the effort, and Dr. Vael is in mourning and won’t easily believe what has happened. Even if he does, the time required is limited. I don’t have the time to explain it to him and Samson is no fledgling. He’s spent twelve years on the hunt, and run. He’ll be strong. He has fed to his fill last night, and will need to feed soon. I have the element of surprise.” Pressing a button along the hilt of the metal stake he retracted itself tightly into the hilt easily. “I doubt he’s seen the likes of this before.”

Diana stamped her foot, “what if he catches you? Bites you? It’s too great a risk! You need a better plan, better bait.” Turning to Dorian she was trembling, “this is madness! Tell him!” Dorian stammered to say something when Diana growled again, “I can’t…. this isn’t….” screaming she ran from the library towards her room.

“I… I don’t understand,” Cullen put the last few items in his bag.

“Of course, you don’t,” Dorian sighed twisting his mustache between his fingers. “She has lost enough and does not wish… No, she cannot bare the thought of losing you as well. It seems she’s grown very fond of you, old friend.”

Running a hand through his hair, Cullen shook his head, “with Samson walking around and worse yet, his sire I cannot take to such thoughts of fancy. As much as I’d like too…” trailing off he sighed. “This is your fault, isn’t it Dorian. Some secret wish to bring two people together. I have said it a thousand times and perhaps I will be forced to say it a thousand more. I live a dangerous life. Hunting the things that go bump in the night. I cannot… I cannot risk losing someone again.” Dropping onto the couch behind him, he sunk his face in his hands. “I’m getting too old for these games.”

Tenting his fingers as he crossed his legs, Dorian nodded, “and there it is. You’ve found something worth fighting for, worth living for and immediately you harbor guilt. How dare I move on and enjoy life when she didn’t. It’s been twelve years, and Maker knows how many you’ve saved from their kind or returned to the Maker. We narrow in on Samson, and once he is dispatched we can make journey to Skyhold. If that beast kept any information we may yet know the whereabouts of his sire.” Sighing he shrugged his shoulders. “To do so alone would be, boring at the least, torturous to be honest. Diana is no weak creature, no delicate flower. Despite what her loathsome father would proclaim. I have to agree with her. This is madness. If Samson is as powerful as you claim him to be, then the tight quarters of a tomb isn’t your best advantage. She is.”

“Are you suggesting we use her as a lure?” Sharply raising his head to glare at Dorian, Cullen’s lip snarled up. 

“Not so much yes and not outright no. You know how to tackle these things. Methods that are and aren’t the best. Fighting in close quarters with something stronger than you is insanity at the least, death at the worst.” 

Cullen hung his head, “there… how else to do I prevent her from rising, and stop Samson?”

“We have daylight. We find what ship he boarded, where the cargo contents went and then we stop him from returning to his bed. Without rest, he will be weakened. We flush out his lair with sunlight, and let the rest come to be.” Dorian sat up and smiled. “Lucky for you, I’d already taken the time to call down to the port. It just so happens, I will have the location of the shipping containers within the next hour.” 

Laughing Cullen nodded, “you are a crafty bastard. So, I dispatch Flora and then?” 

“Once you put her down, we’ll need to be cautious. He’ll go to her, once he does we will rush in and plant the idols of Andraste into his coffin. We get back before he returns and I’m really working on this as I go.” Dorian sighed heavily.

“Get out a fresh sheet of paper, we have some time to figure out the details.”


	14. Chapter 14

Diana paced back and forth in her room. Secretly she had kept and bound the short hand copies of all the writing she had done with Cullen. Flipping through the bookmarked and dogeared pages she was skimming to find what she needed. What would get the job done. There was no way she was letting Cullen face Samson, alone in that cramped crypt. He wanted her next, that much she put together on her own. She had dumped her jewelry upon her bed, digging she found her Andraste medals. Ripping them off their delicate chains she set to work creating a thick choker with a complicated latch. Taking the multiple medals, she fixed them to the ribbon in rows and then, using her vanity mirror she secured it high upon her neck. “A little surprise for the Count,” she grinned running her fingers over the medals. “He won’t take me so easily.” 

Next, she looked through the notes, “I have that,” pulling a drawer open she withdrew a bottle of blessed water. “I’ll see him before he sees me.” Tucking it down the front of her dress she smiled. Cullen’s notes on the properties of blessed water sparked her interests and she had memorized most of his lessons. “Now, I need a way to dispatch him…” looking about her room there wasn’t much she could use. Then she remembered the fresh cut logs for the fire. Digging carefully through the bin, she managed to find a section of wood that seemed about right. Pulling a hidden blade from the secret drawer of her vanity she began carefully whittling away the tip to a sharpened point. 

Keeping her ears sharp she turned to see the time on the wall clock. Only a quarter past two in the afternoon. This meant she had plenty of time, and she focused to hear the front door open and close. Stashing the section of half sharpened wood under her bed, she went to investigate. Calmly brushing the wood shavings from her dress, she quietly made her way down the winding stairwell towards the library. Opening the door just a hair she couldn’t hear any sound coming from within. Waiting a few more moments she pushed it wider. Seeing no one inside she immediately went to the desk. 

Several papers laid out their plan. Trying her best to decipher the hurried writing of the men she got a basic understanding of their machinations. Cullen was on his way to Flora’s crypt to set up. He would stake her a few moments before the sun fell. Giving Dorian enough time to get into position. Cullen would then head towards the house. Dorian would watch Samson leave and once he was away he would place the idols in his coffin. He too would return to the house. With that done, they would wait till an hour before sunrise, and return to Samson’s coffin. When Samson came to nest for the daylight hours he would find his shelter no longer his own. From there they would shutter him in and wait for daylight. Using that daylight, they would destroy Samson. 

Scoffing she shook her head, “that is a lot of unaccounted hours for this thing to roam. Too many, and he’ll want revenge.” She knew whether they had missed it or not, this plan put them all in direct harm. None knew if Samson knew their location. But he knew where her bedroom window was. It was dangerous for them as well. Were something to befall the other there was no way of communicating with each other. “Come on, find the answer,” she grumbled at herself as she looked through the papers. “Too little time, too large of moves…” grabbing a fresh sheet of paper she began filling in the holes.

Cullen held his breath as he finished the prayer and drove the stake home. Pressing himself against the door of the tomb, he watched her writhe and shriek before returning to her mortal shell. Peeking around the tomb door he saw the sun beginning to dip. Snatching his bag, he rushed away. Instead of following through with the original plan he changed his course. Making a bee line for Dorian. 

“What in the Maker…” Dorian grumbled between gritted teeth. “He’ll be awake any moment now!”

Nodding Cullen held a gloved finger to his lips, “hush. I couldn’t stand putting you at risk. We’ll do this together, and I shall watch your back.” Pulling his cloak back he pointed to the small bottle of blessed water. “This will be our warning system. See how it glows softly? It glows when in the presence of the vampire. If he comes closer, we’ll have some warning at least.”

Together they sat across the street from a small barn like structure, awaiting the sun set and the beast’s rise. It was cool as the evening air began to filter down over the roof tops and cascade over them. So much so, Cullen couldn’t help but shiver. Tugging his collar tightly about his neck he watched carefully. He locked his eyes to the wooden door. It was a small shed like structure at the back of an old abandoned property. 

Dorian had tracked the shipping records down, an old friend at the port having given him a copy of the logs. The property once belonged to an old slave owner named Danarius and a couple years ago something befell him, and the property went untouched. Somehow Samson purchased the lot and had himself shipped over to the storage shed outback. Dorian had spoken at length with the man at the port who told him, construction had begun on the old manor home. From their vantage across the street, they could see the front half of the shed. 

As the sun fell, they held their collective breaths as the door to the shed softly opened, not a sound being made. Samson’s pasty white face sharply stuck out against the weathered wooden boards. His eyes darted back and forth and then he took a solid step out. He seemed to halt in his steps and let out a howl before rapidly, rushing towards the crypt. 

Once he was safely out of view, Dorian tugged Cullen and they rushed across the street. Keeping as best they could to the shadows they approached the shed. Cullen gripped the handle tightly and looked around one last time before giving it a tug. Slipping inside he was surprised at the size of the room. Nearly the size of Dorian’s parlor he squinted, once his eyes adjusted to the darkness. “We can’t risk lighting a lamp, if the constables see us or worst Samson, we’re done. Quickly, do you have the idol?” Cullen spotted the coffin, standing in the middle of the room, firmly placed in a heap of earth.

“Yes, in my pouch. Here,” Dorian tossed the idol to Cullen who quickly shoved it into the coffin. “Are we done here?”

“One moment!” Cullen looked around again. Several windows painted over caught his attention, “there are windows in here!”

“No time, we can discuss it at the house!” Dorian tugged his arm and rushed him out the door. Slipping through several back alleys, Cullen held out the little bottle of water.

Sitting at the desk in the library Diana poured over the new tome she had discovered. Looking at the clock she tried not to worry. It was already dark and had been dark for some time. Re-reading the same passage she’d read about twelve times now she groaned, and half tossed the book onto the desk. “Calm yourself,” she clenched her fists as she rose to pour a drink. Cullen hadn’t returned, as their plan stated. Now it was all up in the air. Had he done as she had thought? To meet Dorian and together tackle the house of the creature? Rolling the glass in her hand she tried to calm herself. “Any minute now,” she nodded, sipping at the wine. Sweet and bitter notes of fall harvested grapes, apples and berries tickled her tongue as she felt the warmth pass through her. Walking over to the fire place she sat in the armchair and watched the fire snap and crackle.

“Ma’am,” the butler called from the doorway.

“Yes, I’m in the library,” she yelled back, not wanting to rise.

“There is someone at the door who wishes to see you. Shall I let him in?” 

The glass tumbled to the floor as she rushed to get up, “no! I shall see to it. Do not let him in!” She rushed through the library and down to the front door. Coming around the corner she caught the dark figure awaiting her at the opening to her home. Chills ran down her spine as she came to the door, “good evening, may I help you sir?” 

Samson raised his eyebrow and spoke calmly, “I was wondering if I may come in? I knew your cousin, and I have news about him.” He’s voice was even and soothing. Not the imposing figure from the books she’d read. No this wasn’t intimidating at all. 

“I’m sorry sir, but I am preparing to turn in for the evening. I’m exhausted. I do apologize.” Giving a slight bow, she smiled. According to the books she’d read, he had no powers within her home unless she or a person of the house invited him in. He was unable to affect her, use his vampire charms and she had laid her own bait. 

“My sincerest apologizes for calling at such a late hour.” Samson bowed at the waist, sharp and deep. “Rest is an important thing for those who are not feeling well. Best to sleep with the window open to get in some of the fresh night air. It will make you feel much better.” Grinning his fangs just hidden beneath his lips he looked over at the butler. “You should help the lady this evening and make her room more accommodating.” Turning back to Diana he smiled again, “I shall let you rest. Good evening, my lady.” 

As he turned and left, Diana shut the door. There were too many hours before sun up and the interaction at the door had made her sleepy. More so than she thought. Trying to shake it from her head she knew it was the vampire’s power trying to sap her will. Uttering a prayer, she felt some of her strength restored. She needed the boys to return, prayed they would. “I’m heading to my room. Be sure to only let in Professor Rutherford and Dorian. No one else, am I…” turning to look about her the butler was gone. Feeling the hairs stick up on her neck she could hear the latch click on her bedroom window. “NO!”


	15. Chapter 15

“There he is, look!” Dorian gripped Cullen’s shoulder and thrust a finger towards Diana’s bedroom window. “We need to get inside, quickly!” 

“I will have you!” Samson snarled as Diana raced to the top of the steps. Lunging for the butler, he screamed as Samson sank his teeth into the man and began to feed.

Diana was frozen as she watched the life drain from the butler’s withered body. “But… how? You weren’t invited in!”

Laughing as he flung the lifeless body of the butler out the window he wiped at his lips, “windows, are a grey area.” Slowly he walked forward. “I will take you as my bride, and while I wished to be kind and share with you the joys of immortality slowly, my hand has been forced. Tonight, my sweet love, tonight you will be mine.” His eyes locked with hers, “first we need to take care of that, thing,” he thrust his hand out and pointed at her necklace. 

She could feel her mouth run dry as she struggled to fight his urgings. “I… you won’t take me!” Shutting the bedroom door, she tried to catch her breathe. She still had on her necklace but that wouldn’t protect her for long. The sharpened stake was still in the room, but it was far too risky to go back inside, not with Samson waiting for her.

“My darling, it isn’t so bad,” his voice was buttery and almost in her ear. It was slipping through the grains of the wooden door, bubbling up from the lacquer. “It isn’t without some pain my dear, but I have ways of making it bearable. Even enjoyable.” Swallowing hard she was fighting to block the swirling energy from engulfing her. “Yes, you can’t deny my pull. I’m far more powerful than you, so much so, I will dominate your mind and then,” his laugh was in her head, “you will be mine for all eternity. Together, my bride, we shall feed!”

She was running out of options, and time. His energy would overwhelm her, and he would claim her one way or another. She needed to buy time. That’s when the idea struck her. To pretend his powers had taken control of her, had turned her to his side. If he believed her in his grasp he might just stop applying pressure. She could even reach the bed, reach the stake! It was risky but with the butler dead and no one else around, it was her only hope. Drawing in a couple breathes to steady herself she turned and opened the door, forcing a smile to her lips. “Samson, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“We have to hurry, Diana could be in danger!” Cullen growled as he shoved Maddox off his back, hurling the man to the ground.

“I gathered as much,” Dorian took Cullen’s bag and whoomphed Maddox over the head, “how did he get out? I don’t understand. He should be locked up tight in the nut house!”

Getting to his feet Cullen dabbed at the bite mark upon his shoulder, the shirt torn away in the struggle. “Thankfully he’s just a thrall. I’ll have to clean the wound to prevent infection, but I don’t risk anything more than a fever at most.”

Dorian tugged his handkerchief from his coat pocket, “here, you’re bleeding.”

Taking it from his hand he turned to see Maddox rising again, “no time. Club him again, we’ll throw him into the streets. Police will pick him up soon enough. Maker knows we’ve made enough noise.” 

Smashing Maddox again over the head, they quickly picked the man up and tossed him into the street. Wasting no further time, they bolted towards the house. The city clock chimed midnight, “midnight, have we been gone so long?” Cullen gritted between his teeth, picking his pace up from a brisk walk to a straight run. 

Reaching the house, they were both in shock to find no one answering the door. Banging away Dorian grumbled, “I have a spare key. Out here. Somewhere.” He began over turning several rocks trying to find his extra key. 

“Maker’s breath Dorian, really?!” Cullen grabbed two rocks closest to a plant pot a couple paces from the door. “Here, move!” Plucking the key from the soil he brushed it on his pants before jamming it into the lock. It took several attempts to get the door, causing a string of curses in Tevene from Dorian and blasphemous excerpts from Cullen. Finally, shoving the door free they both burst into the house. 

Silence. If it weren’t for the bulging, dead eyes of the butler, his body contorted and broken upon the floor, they may have believed it was safe. Cullen was in a panic, “Diana!” he yelled, several times as he raced first to the library. No sign of her. 

“Cullen, he’s been drained of blood,” Dorian stood from the body of the butler and looked up at the stairwell leading to Diana’s bedroom. 

“No,” it was barely a half utterance as Cullen raced up the steps fumbling for whatever weapon he could find. “Diana!” He screamed again just outside of her room. There was a muffled sound that he couldn’t make out. Trying to turn the handle, he found it locked or stuck. Unsure and fear creeping over him, he lost rational sense and began kicking at the door. One kick, the hinges squealed. Two kicks, the wood began to splinter. Three kicks, the handle popped off. By the fourth kick the door blew apart. 

“About… time you showed up…” Diana stood braced against the wall beside the door. Blood caked her face and chest, her blouse torn away in shreds, her hands covered in blood. Taking in a deep breath she pushed past Cullen, “oh, this isn’t mine.” Stopping she gripped the banister, “well maybe a little.” Smiling, her eyes rolled back, and she fainted. 

Cullen jumped immediately to her side, pulling the small bottle of holy water out of his breast pocket he sighed with relief to see it not glowing. “She’s fainted, but she’s one of us. Come help me with her!” Cullen scooped her up in his arms, “prepare a place for her upon the couch in the library.” Carrying her down the stairs he stepped over the body of the butler. 

Dorian had rushed ahead and propped up some pillows for him. Moving about quickly he collected some rags and a bowl of water, “here, let me tend to her. You go check her room, I know you need to.” Dorian didn’t lift his eyes as his took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and began washing away the blood from her face, and neck. 

Racing back up the steps, Cullen flicked the light on in her room. He was in shock to see Samson’s body upon the bed, his face contorted in agony as his hands where gripping tightly a wooden stake buried in his chest. His teeth were bloodied, his face and eyes and Cullen stood in shock. He’d never killed an older vampire before and here, his main target had been taken down by Diana. Uttering a prayer, he closed the window. As his prayer came to their end, Samson’s body heaved up and then slowly began to crumble away into dust. Even the dust became smaller particles until there was nothing left, but the wooden stake, laying upon the bed, clean of any signs of use. Carefully shutting the light off, he went back downstairs to check the butler. “He’s been bitten and drained, but I don’t see any blood in his mouth. His body is… he was thrown from the top there, like a rag doll.” Cullen pointed up towards Diana’s bedroom. “Did he have family?”

“No,” Dorian sighed, as he finished clearing the last of the gore from Diana. “He was… well a rather interesting addition to the household. I can’t say I remember his name, and yet he lived here. I know he had no one as that was why I took pity on him and didn’t fire him.”

“He won’t turn,” Diana weakly tried to sit herself up. “Samson just needed his energy, nothing more.” Taking the glass of brandy water Dorian poured for her she drew in a long gulp before returning to her story. “You took too long.” Letting the flood of warmth swell through her she collected her energy. “I’ve been reading the notes I type up for you Cullen. Committing as much to memory as I can. When you decided to go after Flora and Samson alone I was upset, as you remember. Returning to my room, I went over my own notes. Collecting some items, I fashioned this necklace, which was hidden under my dress collar. I then was sure I had blessed water and made my own stake.”

“You made a stake!” Cullen gasped before Dorian’s hand swatted at his shoulder, a hush upon his lips, “sorry, continue.”

Taking a smaller sip, she nodded. “I heard you both leave and that’s when I went to the study and looked over your notes. I also read through the Forgotten Verses, making more notes in my ledger. The time slipped away from me, and when I looked up it was nearly midnight and neither of you had returned. It was then the butler came to let me know I had a visitor. I told him not to invite him in and tended to the door myself. Well, it was Samson. Pretending to be a friend of my cousins. He wanted to come in and speak about Dorian. I told him I was retiring for the evening and perhaps he could call back later. I wasn’t paying close enough attention. He used his will upon the butler, got him to go up to my room and open the window, old fool.” Readjusting her position, she groaned, “I’m sorry, I ache terribly now.”

“You don’t have to…”

“No, Cullen, I want to,” she grinned reaching out for his hand. Curling her fingers in his she eased back into the pillows of the couch. “Before I could stop him, Samson was in my room. Apparently, there is a different rule for windows. He grabbed the butler, drained him dry, quickly might I add, and tossed him over the balcony. I slammed the door shut but there is a magic these things possess. His voice seemed to come through the door and into my mind. I was trapped, so I turned the tables the best I could. I feigned being under his control. He talked on and on, about being lonely. About his first being stolen from him and then his second. That there was no time. He needed to make me his tonight, so we could leave back to Skyhold together. For my part I let him speak and moved to the bed. He followed once he finished his self-absorbed whining. He ripped my collar open and found this. Unable to remove it he growled and shredded my blouse. Laying me down he went to sink his teeth into my chest, all while I fumbled to grab the stake. He did manage to bite me, but the moment the stake pierced his heart the burning went away, and if you look,” tugging her blouse open just enough to show where he had bitten her, everyone could see there wasn’t a single mark. “He collapsed on top of me. Blood pouring from his eyes, and mouth. I struggled but managed to get out from under him. I believe that is when you found me.”

Cullen held up the vial of blessed water, it’s liquid remained clear. “I’ll drink a bit if that makes you feel better,” she said. He smiled at her as she reached for the bottle. Passing it to her they all sat in silence as she took a sip. Nothing. No smoke, or screaming, no burning or crying. 

It was enough for Cullen to believe what he was seeing was real. That not only had they defeated Samson but that she was unharmed, unmarred. Feeling a rushing wave of relief, he leaned over her and kissed her. 

“Well, I guess that’s my cue,” Dorian stood up and groaned when he turned to the front. The body of the butler still staring at him, “I’ll… I’m going to have to make a call.”


	16. Chapter 16

It was a calm day, sun shining brightly as they gathered to pack and prepare. Diana had made it very clear that Cullen and Dorian weren’t going anywhere without her. While it wasn’t the ideal situation neither man could come up with a valid reason to leave her behind. On April twenty-fifth they set out on their journey to Skyhold. 

Booking passage, they set sail two days later. Together they shared a cabin to the three of them. In hushed whispers Diana updated the ledgers she had made for each of them. Taking in all the facts and records of Cullen’s learning and Dorian’s tomes. They had been sure to bring enough supplies for the trip and to deal with any issues that may arise.

“We’re hunting something that’s supposedly nearly a thousand years old,” Dorian whispered. “It was originally from Tevinter, and by Cullen’s book, it arrived in Kirkwall at some point. Perhaps it stayed there for a time, but we know not what befell it afterwards.”

Nodding Diana added in, “Samson spoke of lonely times, with word and silence. I believe he was referring to a diary or journal. If we can find it, it may contain clues as to where Corypheus is. If he’s still alive.”

“He has to be,” Cullen snorted, “he is the root and once we expunge him, this whole nightmare will end.” Folding his arms, he leaned back against the bed. “This is all idle speculation at best as it is. You didn’t have any issues after Samson bit you, because he died. But you weren’t turned… it’s all… confusing.” Running his hands through his hair, he shook his head. “This whole trip may be a waste of time.”

Diana stood and sat behind him. Kneading at the muscles in his shoulders she shook her head, “we don’t know till we know. Let’s focus on finding the book first, like always. Right cousin?”

Dorian nodded, “true. It’s late and I grow tired. We should all turn in for the evening. It will be a long journey with lots of time to figure things out.”

Nearly two weeks at sea, they arrived on the shores of Ferelden. Another day’s travel and they arrived at Haven. As sleepy and quaint as when Dorian had left it. Varric came bounding out of the tavern, warmly greeting them. “Come in, come in,” he hustled them in side. Having drink and food brought to them he sat at the table. “Any word on the Count?” his voice low and tentative.

“He lives no more,” Cullen nodded, “any word on the Keep?’

“No one is brave enough to go up there. Too much fear, and enough rational to stay where it’s safe. Stay the night, then head there in the morning. You know you’ll be there over night, right?” There was trepidation in the man’s voice despite his knowledge that the owner was no longer walking the land. 

Gripping the man’s hand tightly Dorian smiled, “we’re prepared this time. It will be safe.”

Varric offered them free room and board, only managing to provide them two rooms. Dorian snickered as he ushered his baggage to the smaller of the two rooms. 

Standing firmly Diana carried her bags to the room and began preparing for the evening. Laying out her books and going over details they knew. Cullen blushed as he slipped in behind her, “is this… I mean… Uh…” rubbing his neck he tried to calm himself enough to speak. The prior weeks had been a blur of action as they packed and began their trip to Haven. He really hadn’t had a chance to speak with Diana on everything that happened. How her near death, nearly broke him. Twelve years of believing Jessica was everything, conflicted with how he felt when he looked upon her. Guilt also crept along, as she had no idea the dangers he blamed himself for pulling her into. 

“Are you planning on relaxing this evening, or do you plan on blushing to death,” smirking she reached up to untie her hair and comb free the knots before braiding it into a long trail behind her back. 

Coughing into his hand he tried to shake off the rouge clinging to this cheek bones, “I would very much like to relax. I just…” sighing he shook his head, “I’m not very good at this.”

“That much is true,” running the brush through her hair she chuckled. “Perhaps I can speak for you? Let’s see,” gazing into the mirror she watched him intently as she finished. “You wish to apologize to me, for putting me in such grave danger. Then you’d like to confess your feelings, something you hadn’t expected but you are overjoyed to have found after so long.”

Staring with his eyes wide he watched her fingers twist as she pulled the strands into a neat plait, “well... when you put it that way, it sounds quite trivial.” 

Snickering she packed her brush away and sighed, “I told you in the library how I was interested in you. I figured my forwardness upon the couch was enough of a clue to my intentions. I should apologize myself. You are sorely unaccustomed to such attentions and I have never received them myself. I am playing on my feelings towards you and if I make a move unwanted, I would request you advise me of such things.” Laying out her book she began writing away, “I hope that puts you at ease, to act more as you wish.”

Eyes wide Cullen couldn’t help but feel both at ease and incredibly embarrassed. Getting his bags into the room he went about his own evening ritual of preparing before dinner. His mind was going over everything a million times over and trying to find the right words that seemed to choke in his chest. Instead he quietly fixed his hair, and pulled his evening supplies from his leather bag. 

“I am prepared to head down for dinner whenever you are,” Diana chimed as she scribbled away upon a ledger.

Evening was quiet, and dinner was filled with Varric and his many tales. Tales that seemed fantastic at the telling, including something he called the Tale of the Champion. Everything sounded incredible and had Diana not lived through a vampire attack she may not have believed him. As the night wound down, they laughed and shared in drink. It was the first time Cullen seemed to relax since their hurried packing and Diana adored his boyish snort when the giggles overcame him. 

Dorian was the one to call the evening to an end, exclaiming it would be a long day tomorrow and it was best everyone got the sleep they required. Diana heeded his words and reluctantly went to her quarters, leaving Cullen and Dorian to speak briefly before they too retired. 

Diana was giddy and exhausted. It was a long journey across the sea and now she was on solid ground. Blessed solid ground. It had taken her nearly the entire coach trip to Haven to finally shake the constant rocking feeling from her legs. Dipping behind the dressing stand she changed out of her travelling clothes and into a more comfortable sleeping gown. 

There was only one bed in the room and the thought of sleeping alone with Cullen hadn’t phased her. It seemed to tickle her cousin pink that she would be alone for the evening with him. To her it was sleeping, what else was there to do in a bed? Even if she could see where Dorian was going with his impish grin, she was too exhausted to even contemplate such fancies. And in a road side tavern, how trite! Quietly she drew back the blankets and slipped into bed. It would be a long day tomorrow and it was best to get an early start, she theorized. Her romantic feelings towards the Professor would have to wait.

Cullen hung back to speak with Dorian. Going over traveling plans and a layout of the Keep. What little of a layout Dorian could provide seeing as he saw precious little of the sprawling grounds. He knew there was several doors off the main hall but where they led, and what they held were unknown. Dorian wanted to collect as much from the library as he could before they left. Cullen agreed and with a final drink between the two they headed to bed. 

Being as silent as he could he snuck into the room. Tip toeing towards his baggage, he undressed down to his underclothes. Pulling on his sleeping shirt, he made fast work of the buttons before tugging on his sleep pants and tying them about his hips. Passing a brush through his hair he finished washing and as carefully as he could muster, he got under the covers. It was chilly in the room, the mid May nights still holding a damp cold. Laying flat upon his back, he was trying to calm his racing heart. It was near scandalous for a young woman to be alone with a man, let alone in the same bed and unwed. Yet Diana hadn’t seemed to be bothered by it. Clenching his eyes tightly he drew in a deep breath, after all it was just sleep. Feeling his heart steady, he felt the exhaustion crawl over him. 

“Goodnight Cullen,” Diana mumbled as she rolled towards him, wrapping herself around his body and resting her head upon his chest.

“Uh… good night Diana,” he tried to think what to do when he noticed her breathing. She was fast asleep and must have rolled towards him in such a state. Chuckling softly, he sighed and resigned himself to his fate. Closing his eyes, he mumbled his usual prayers and fell into a deep sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

Coming morning the warm tug of Cullen pressed against her back woke Diana. Sighing. She wanted to enjoy his arm lazily wrapped around her waist. It would be the last bit of calm before the storm they were facing. With a groggy voice Cullen purred against her ear, “good morning.” 

“I would hope so,” Diana smiled as he awkwardly tried to right himself. “Come, it was sweet.”

Rising, he had to admit it, it was wonderful to wake with his arm around her. Even if it stung a little, “we… we should get to work.” He was sore to admit it, admit how his heart leapt with joy when he saw her. How it fluttered in his stomach when she spoke his name. Yet, it pained him to no end that she had born witness to the horrors. To the things that made his blood run cold and keep him awake far later at night then he should have been. Reaching into his bag he pulled some comfortable travelling clothes out and ducked behind the dressing screen. His thoughts still scattered as he dressed.

Diana smiled widely to herself as she watched him go about his dressing. Once he was decent, she rose from the bed and collected a neatly laid out pile of clothes, “breakfast then off to the Keep?” She stretched high over her head, clutching the pile of clothes against her chest as she disappeared behind the screen. 

“Yes. It a couple hours ride to the Keep and from there… we know nothing of what we are walking into.” Cullen sighed as he combed his hair back, setting it into place with a bit of grease. 

“It isn’t so much the Keep and its contents you are concerned about is it?” Diana peeked over the top of the screen as she tugged her blouse over her head. 

Dropping his brush, he let out a gasp as it bounced off his big toe and slipped under the bed. “Well, now I am thinking I have a sore toe and I have to retrieve my comb.” He could hear her laughter as he bent down to search for his brush. “Perhaps there is something I wish to say but now is not the time. Once we have dealt with all we need to, I promise you, I will say what I feel.”

Diana nearly fell over as she tugged on her skirt. It was more than she could ask for and it gave her renewed drive to handle this situation as quickly as possible. “Agreed. I shall have to wait.” Tying off her hair she slipped on her shoes, “ready when you are, Professor.”

“Please, just Cullen to you,” Collecting the last of his items and packing them away he gave her a warm smile before dipping out into the hall to meet Dorian. 

As before no one wanted to take them to the Keep, Varric’s tales causing panic in the locals. Varric eventually broke down and offered them the use of his own small personal coach. Rattling along the dirt path Dorian and Cullen went over their strategy. They would need to sweep the area first, lest there be any more of the foul creatures left behind. Diana shuddered at the thought as the air became thinner. 

Reaching the Keep it looked unassuming, Dorian swore it looked the same as before. The main gates were open, and the air seemed empty as they drove the coach into the stable area. Hooking the horses to the feeding trough they poured the oats waiting there. Together they set out towards the main doors. Dorian reached up and turned the key in the hole, a heavy metallic scraping sound clicking about them. Giving a solid push, the door swung slowly upon it’s hinges. 

Inside, the main hall was dark, a thick dust settled upon the sconces and decorations. Within the cores of the braziers, sat heavy soot and thick ash residue. Best Cullen could tell was they had burnt out and were left for a month at the latest. Dorian waved them to the end of the hall, a set of doors upon each side, “here,” pointing to the left side he moved for the handle, “this feels about right.”

Cullen checked, and rechecked his flask of blessed water content it wasn’t glowing. Content he led the way through the door. Steps. Another door and more stairs. Cresting the top of the steps, Cullen walked into the pitch darkness. Striking a match, he peered around the room, “it’s a private study of some kind. I would dare to say originally it may have been the Keep owner’s master bedroom.”

Dorian found a torch upon the wall and lit it, “yes, YES!” He squealed as he raced over to a desk in the corner. “Quick, more light, more light!”

Turning Cullen noticed the walls across from him were actually large stain glass doors, covered in thick, heavy curtains. Taking out his pocket knife he sliced at the panels of fabric. Within a few slashes he had cleared one window, causing a flash of light to enter the room. 

“Much better, keep at it!” Dorian grinned. Noticing a fireplace, he threw the torch in, the warm welcome in the cool mountain air. 

Diana followed behind, assisting in removing the light blocking curtains. As they worked she stopped to look over the room. It was a mess of discarded books, clothes, tattered materials and a broken mirror. “It would be a charming room, were it not for the mess,” she sighed. Instincts kicking in she began collecting broken useless items and throwing them into the fireplace. 

Cullen joined Dorian as they dug through the desk, searching for anything that might shed light on where the king of all vampires could be. As they dug Cullen peeked up to see Diana busy tidying and scouring the rubble, “find anything?” he called out to her as Dorian tugged on another desk drawer.

Picking up several more scraps of paper she shrugged, “nothing yet, just lots of odds and ends.” Tossing the scraps into the fireplace she looked at the mantle, “hang on,” touching the symbol of an old Elvhen god there was a soft clicking noise as the painting moved above the mantle. Pushing the painting she saw a small box. “Cullen,” she called carefully extracting it from it’s hidden compartment. 

Dorian tugged out a thick, heavily bond book from the drawer he was working on, “and it appears I have something here as well.” Plunking it down upon the dust laden desk top, he began untying the string binding the book. 

Cullen was beside Diana, helping her to examine the box, “it’s old. Very old. Perhaps, Tevinter in origin?” 

“It most definitely is!” Dorian waved them over, “it says here it’s a memory crystal. Something from ancient times, said to harbor the living memory of an individual. Samson writes here,” he pointed to a lengthy paragraph written in fine hand, “that it once belonged to his sire, Corypheus. It also says he could never figure out how to get it to work.” 

Diana managed to flick something, and the box opened to reveal a polished gem the size of her palm. It was set in a velvet material, and looked ordinary enough. “It’s purple,” Diana snickered as she ran her finger tips over the smooth surface. It was cold, and didn’t seem like anything other than an oversize jewel in an ornate box tucked away for safety.

“There is still much to go through, and a whole Keep at our finger tips. We should bag these items and move forward. Perhaps, if we stay the night, this room might be our best bet.” Cullen looked around as he spoke, seeing potential for the room and with plenty of natural light and a still functioning fireplace it would make a reasonable safe haven.

Dorian snorted, “I would prefer not to spend another moment in this cursed place, but it seems we may have little choice. There will be so much more to go through and we haven’t even seen the library, or multiple unopened doors. How fares your warning beacon?”

“Hasn’t moved at all. I’m cautious to say this place has been vacant for some time.” Cullen took the gem in it’s box and placed it into the bag slung over his shoulder. Dorian handed him the book and it too was placed in the sack. 

Together they began searching, room by room, careful not to overlook anything. Diana’s shriek filled the air and both men went running, “what is it? Diana what….” Both men stood in the doorway of the Undercroft. There pinned to the back wall, they saw it. A skeletal figure, impaled through the heart with a wooden stake.


	18. Chapter 18

Cullen got in close and inspected the thing. It was enormous, towering over him by nearly two whole feet. Its shoulders were also broader, nearly double Cullen’s with ease. Scanning down the body, he noticed a thick signet ring. “I…. I can’t believe what I’m seeing…” 

“Its Corypheus,” Dorian sighed, “someone beat us to it.”

“Impossible….” Cullen took several steps back as he shook his head, confused at what he was seeing. “I don’t understand.”

Diana began examining the stake imbedded into the rotted heart of the beast, “if you think that’s fantastical, wait till you hear this. The stake has writing upon it. It says, ‘Into the darkness with you,’ and it’s signed.” Turning back, she looked Cullen in the eyes, “by Malcolm Hawke.”

“That… no… I…” Cullen gripped his head, everything was misty. Nothing he had thought made sense. He’d spent the last six years learning, training, studying to find how to trap and destroy the master of all vampires and here he lay, dead. Possibly dead. Cullen was trying to scan his memory for any clue as to what or how this could have happened.

Diana bent down and looked at the base of the monster, his claw like skeletal feet bent awkwardly upon the floor, “it was recent. There are foot prints here. Men’s if I’m right.”

“Men’s footprints…” Cullen felt as if he needed air. Everything he had studied and worked years for seemed to disappear. 

Diana noticed his shift in behaviour, “breath, Cullen.” She came to his side, “we still don’t have all the answers. How could Malcolm Hawke stake Corypheus if he’s been dead for twelve years? Is Corypheus truly dead or is he simply in a state of vampiric sleep or hibernation? His body is skeletal, yet his heart is that of a rotted cadaver. What does this all mean?” Tugging on his arm she tried to break his focus. “We have still much work to do.”

Dorian cleared his throat, getting everyone’s attention, “the daylight is falling. We should gather what we have and return to the bedroom. We have lots to go over.”

Half tugging Cullen’s down the corridors and stairwells they returned to the Keep’s master bedroom. Dorian bolted the door behind them, and Diana went about tending the fireplace. Cullen stood in the center of the room, tossing his sack upon the bed he began pulling out the food items they’d packed away for this trip. 

“It isn’t exactly cozy, but perhaps once it was,” Dorian sighed helping Diana gather a few more items to toss into the fireplace. 

Cullen pulled candles from the bag and set them about before aiding Dorian in setting up for the evening. They worked in silence, laying out their travelling packs, and preparing their meager meal. Once their beds were prepared, and their food squared away Dorian began reading the thick journal of Samson. 

 

June twenty-third, Eighteen Ninety-Nine

I lost her, and my soul feels empty. She was like a golden light in the darkness. She was a warm breeze on a cool summer’s day and I loved her. Even though we had only just met, our souls were bonded. Our eyes met upon the city streets of Kirkwall and I knew then that we had to be together. I begged my lord to give me the vampire’s embrace. Begged him to give me the power to unite my love and I for all eternity. 

He seemed amused by my request and I was in true shock when he told me he would grant my wish. The embrace was… uncomfortable, and quite painful. He was not gentle. I wished to do better by her, take her slowly, sweetly. I found a way to walk in the daylight, if I stuck to the shadows I could get about well enough. The only issue I encountered was how It left me drained on energy. 

I could only meet her once in the market that day, and it was bliss. To feel her fingers upon my skin, even thought I was a youngling, it was like fire to a frozen wanderer. She promised me she’d leave her bedroom window open. Come nightfall it was, and I embraced her as Corypheus embraced me. But it was different. I was gentle, she did not cry out or shake under me. Her last words were a promise to be together soon. She even called me her love. It was everything I could have asked for. 

With the embrace, my cravings for dwarf-dust were gone, my mind was my own. For the first time in years I was clear and pain-free. I had to rest that day, return to the root cellar in Low Town. I had no coffin at the time, didn’t technically die in the dust. Any unblessed soil was a bed for me and I used it well. 

When the darkness seeped over the city, only a couple days ago, I woke to feel her energy missing. Not the excitement of being able to hold her, but the emptiness of her tie to me. I scrambled to get to where she would rise to find her foul creature of a husband quickly rushing through the streets. He caught my eyes and I knew. He had taken her from me! In a fit of rage, I attacked him, and slashed his lip with my nails. Nails that had become razor sharp, yet it wasn’t enough. I wanted to destroy him as he had destroyed a part of me. Somehow, he managed to wound me, and I was left to run away. My powers drained, and rage temporarily sundered. 

I returned to my master to find him laughing, LAUGHING about my pain! I was irritate, and having suffered my heart wrenching loss I struck out. He was larger than me, but I was sated from my fill the night before. We struggled back and forth, slashing and hissing at each other like wild cats. He tore the hair from the front of my head and I rendered a lengthy gash across his chin. It bled badly, and he was forced to back off me. His last words before leaving a curse, “may you walk this hollow world alone, and never learn its true secrets!” 

I slept that day away, in the dirt down by the pier. Come night, I rose and when I went to my master’s usual place he was gone. Not a trace of him to be found. I didn’t care at the time and now I have begun my flight. I must get away from here before that bastard hunts me down and puts me to the stake as well. I know not yet where I will go, but I can no longer stay here. I take a hand full of Kirkwall dirt to seed my new homes as I go. I won’t dare draw too much attention to myself, not till I have regained my strength and it may take some time. It will be years before I am capable of hunting down the man that killed my beloved bride. Curse him! Curse him to hunt my corpse till his rots, alone in the gutter! – Samson

“Well that was nice light reading,” Dorian cringed tossing a section of broken chair into the fire. 

Diana shuddered as she gripped her knees tightly to her chest, “you almost feel sorry for Samson. Everything he’s ever cared for or cared about him left him or was taken.”

Snorting Cullen balled up a sheet of tattered paper and chucked it towards the fireplace, “keep reading. There has to be something on this gem.”

Dorian skimmed through several pages, “it says here he found the gem a couple years back. Bought it from a black-market dealer in Denerim before hearing of an abandoned fortress in the mountains. He bundled up everything he had and came here. He tried for three years to unlock the secrets of the stone but eventually gave up. Here, look at this,” Dorian turned the book towards Cullen who read it out loud.

 

January Second Eighteen Ninety-Nine

I have sealed the gem away in my quarters. Perhaps, the archivist from Tevinter will prove useful and be able to help me unlock its secrets. I’ve uncovered so many tomes in my years of research, and yet I know as much as I did seven years ago. Calpernia is no use, and she wishes to drown herself in blood nightly. It was a great pleasure of mine to toss the bag of rats at her. I do hope she enjoys her bed time snacks. 

This place has been my solitary fortress, my safe haven and home for many years but now, I must flee it. Corypheus. I sensed him near. He has come to end me, I know it. For my transgressions all those years ago. I don’t know how to stop him, how to slay him! He is the first vampire, the oldest and most powerful of them all. That much my research has shown me. 

The story, if it is to be believed took place in time before written record. When man and beast roamed the world in search of food and shelter. He hailed from Tevinter. A Tevinter nearly a thousand, five hundred years ago. An age when everyone believed in magic and mysticism. I know, it would sound amusing to hear a vampire critical of magic. So, I keep an open mind. 

It claims he was once a powerful man, a Magister, whatever that means or meant. He and a group of like minded men wanted to assault the Golden City, some story of where the Maker sat his royal ass. They used the blood of some innocent people and he was ‘sent through’ whatever that means. When he ‘came back,’ he was covered in blood and howling like a mad man. Swearing blasphemy at the Maker and his beloved bride Andraste. 

Here’s where it gets interesting. In his fit, he ranted about the city being black and empty. In his raving they tried to calm him. The youngest in the group tried to take his arms and speak with him. Corypheus, (not his real name) bit into the neck of the young lad and drank his blood! Corypheus (Sethius Amladaris) changed before everyone’s eyes.

Only one person was said to have escaped that night. He wrote the notes that I found buried in the back of a book on ancient creatures. Now, how much of this do I believe? I cannot say but it makes sense! It has to make sense! But then, how does one kill it? We meager images of the master can be slain with fire, holy waters, the removal of our heads and sharpened stakes through the heart. But how do you kill the thing that we all spawned from? The purest of evil? I don’t know, but I believe that gem holds the answer! – Samson

“He was trying to figure out how to kill Corypheus!” They all gasped together as Cullen finished the paragraph.


	19. Chapter 19

“We need to get to his library, there is an answer there! There has to be!” Dorian was rising before Diana caught his trouser leg, “what?”

“It’s nearly two in the morning. We’ve been working this all day. We all need sleep, or our minds will be too muddled to figure this out. Furthermore, we need to stick together.” Diana’s pleading eyes brought him to his senses, “of course. You are right, and it isn’t safe. At least not for sure, anyways.” Dorian patted her hand and sunk back down. Cullen yawned, “then we should get some rest, morning light will be up soon, and we don’t want to waste it. Our supplies will hold us out here no more than a couple days. We’ll need to return to the town and there is no guarantee Varric can keep the mob from rushing up here if they believe it is safe.”

Dorian yawned and stretched out, “throw the largest piece we have on the fire I’d like to feel my toes come morning.” 

Diana and Cullen both chuckled as they reached for the section of log, fingers gracing each other’s as Cullen’s hand wrapped around it, “you should get some rest too, my lady.”

She picked up on his tone, something that was decidedly less formal about her title. It made her feel warm and wonderful and there was a hint there that made her hope. She knew he was hurting inside, knew the image in the Undercroft had made his head spin and things turn upside down, but the last words of Samson’s journal hit her hard. He wished Cullen to walk this world alone, and die alone. Unwanted, unloved and barren. If there was anything to say about that, she intended to make sure it wasn’t true. Squeezing his fingers lightly, she gave him a smiling nod. There wasn’t much need for words, and at this time, everything seemed so heavy.

After Cullen finished adding the log and stoking the fire they all hunkered down for the night. Come morning, Dorian was up buried in Samson’s journal, finishing the last page as Diana rolled up onto her elbows. “Just in time! I finished the journal. He had no intention of returning here, ever. And if his words are to be believed this place was empty. Calpernia was the only fledgling here under his care. His minions and thralls were just that, people who he had charmed, and he left them behind. Some how he discovered someone hunting Corypheus, but his thralls were never able to find out who.” Sighing Dorian rubbed his mustache, straightening the fraying edges back into a crisp upturn, “he actually had no intentions of harming me. Quite the opposite. He wished my help to package his library, he was certain the secrets to destroying Corypheus lay within his tomes. His only intention was to throw Corypheus at me, lest he not make his escape in time.” 

Cullen groaned and rolled over, “this is all giving me a headache. Does this mean Corypheus is dead or simply awaiting his resurrection?”

“I don’t know. We need to get to the library,” snapping the journal closed Dorian stuffed it back into his bag before heading to the door, “hurry, precious daylight is ticking away.”

Wearily they set upon the massive collection of various books. Dorian grumbled as he tossed some over the railing down to the rotunda floor below. “Useless, junk, I own four of these.”

Diana caught Cullen’s face turn red as he snapped a book closed tightly and slip it back upon the shelve, “find something interesting Cullen?” she snickered as he rubbed at his neck.

“Uh… well I know now what an Antivan Milk Sandwich is, and I am praying to the Maker I may be able to scrub that from my mind.” Cullen exhaled hard as he squished his eyes together shut, “I dare say that one will haunt me.”

Diana let out a chorus of giggles as she returned to her work, searching the rows upon rows of books. She had been as successful as Dorian seeing many novels that she’s cataloged at the house. Several novels she found which were unique she pulled and placed to the side, making a tidy pile. 

Working till night began to blanket the area Cullen felt something odd creep up his spine. “Does anyone else find it cold in here?” shivering he tugged at his jacket. It was then he caught the subtle glow of the small vial of blessed water he carried. “We need to move.” 

“Cullen what’s wrong?” Diana lifted her head from the last shelf, a book in her arms.

Dorian waved his hand, his face buried in a book, “Cullen we’re safe. The journal said Samson left no one here, nothing. It’s as empty as it has been since I left.”

Cullen swallowed hard as he got closer to Diana, trying to maintain his calm. He held at his side the retractable metal stake, but he couldn’t figure out how or why this beacon was beginning to light. “Be still and look,” opening his jacket pocket he pointed towards the soft blue glow of the vial.

Setting the book on top of the pile, she nodded, “Dorian, dear cousin, dinner would be preferable right now.” 

“Maker, we’re nearly there. Only one more bookcase to dissect and we’ll be done for the night. Can’t you just hold off a few more minutes? I know we’ve got this figured out.” Flipping the untitled cover of another tome open he was skimming quickly. 

Both stared at the vial as the blue glow began to increase, slowly, almost as if whatever it was, was crawling towards them. Cullen scooped up his book stack and motioned for Diana to do the same. Getting closer to Dorian they were in a corner. No doors near them, only the ledge which would drop them roughly twenty feet to the floor below, or two doors on either side of the rotunda. Some several feet away. “Make it quick Dorian, we don’t have a ton of time,” Cullen’s voice was low as his eyes darted around the room. Pulling the vial out he waved it under Dorian’s nose, “I don’t care what the damn journal says, I trust the Maker to guide my hand.”

“Vishante Kaffas!” Dorian quickly lowered his book, his eyes craning to the window, “but… I don’t understand. Samson sired no one when he arrived here other than Calpernia and I ended her myself. How in the Maker’s name is there one here now? Could it be sensing Corypheus? Did anyone bother to check the blasted thing before we left that skeleton behind?” Sweat was beading up about the temples of his head as Dorian placed the book upon the stack Diana and Cullen had added to. “Venhedis!”

All three stood silently as they could, each looking around to see where the creature would come from. The glow on the blessed water become stronger, signalling their questions would be answered soon. Cullen picked it up first, the soft sound of leather upon the steps, “it’s coming this way,” he gripped the stake and swallowed, “I can handle it, stay behind me!”

“Is that how you greet all your potential allies?” His voice resounded off the walls. “Of course, I expect nothing else from a pupil of mine. Excellent idea, making a lining in your jacket to hold a vial of blessed water. Wish I had thought about that one,” cresting the last step the stranger came into view. 

Tall, well built, with a shaggy mop of chocolate brown hair. His eyes a shocking blue-grey that would have seemed ethereal if his face had not been so pale. Shaking his head, he laughed, his beard, flecked with signs of salt and pepper shook along to the rhythm of his snicker, “how rude of me. I forget my manners, all this travelling alone business.” Bowing deeply, he smiled, his fangs resting upon his bottom lip, “Malcolm Hawke, vampire turned vampire hunter and temporary slayer of Corypheus. If you would help me, I’d like to make it permanent slayer of Corypheus.”

Cullen stood slack jawed, “I… but you died. Leandra saw you die.”

Chuckling Malcolm hung his head, “I wish it were so easy. Perhaps I need to tell you the story, explain myself as it were. Then you might trust me?”

All three turned to look at one another and Dorian finally spoke, “you haven’t tried to kill us and by my best guess you’ve been here before we arrived. If you wanted us dead or to feed upon, you would have already. So, speak and let us go from there.”

“Ah, a wise man. Perhaps in the master bedroom. I found food supplies in the kitchen here and just finished bringing them to your room. You must all be hungry, and my tale will be long enough. Bring the books and we can get to work.” Waving his hand, he stopped, “don’t worry about me. I’ve fed. Rats are an acquired taste, but they fill no differently and no one misses the rats.”

“Rats!” Squealed Diana as she took a ginger step forward, eyes darting to the floor.

Laughing heartily Malcolm began walking towards the door, “well a few less now my dear. I believe they are afraid of me now. You’ll be safe with me around, not a single rat will grace that beautiful skin of yours.”

Cullen snorted as he took Diana’s hand, “come on, let’s get this over with.”

Dorian clapped Cullen upon the back with the soft covered novel in his hands, “you two aren’t leaving me to carry all this back to the room! Not likely!”


	20. Chapter 20

“I went out into the desert that night. Hunting Corypheus as he wandered back to his cave, some distance from town. Our fight was explosive, and my limited knowledge made for a rather one-sided battle. Being bit does not make one a vampire, nor does it invoke the change. Sharing of blood by sire to prodigy does however. Most vampires prefer to quicken the change by draining the victim and then feeding their blood into their opened mouth. My change was…. An accident.” Malcolm hung his head, sitting upon the edge of the desk, his elbows upon his knees. “I got careless and went against an elder, a higher vampire on my own, with nothing but a stake and some blessed water. Fool I was. Corypheus wasted little time in smashing the bottle from my hands and in the process cut himself. He batted me across the room, his blood got in my mouth you see. As I lay, stunned and stupid, he bit me. Drank a fair bit before I managed to angle the stake up and drive it into his heart. That skeleton you saw in the basement, I’ve seen it before too.” Looking up he sighed, “I knew it the moment I staked him. I felt it burn through my body and I knew my mortal time was done. I also knew the location of his coven. I was intending to die in that fire, but self-preservation was always strong with me. Leandra had followed me, I smelt her perfume on the wind,” tapping his nose he laughed, “add heightened sense of smell to your list of vampire characteristics, Professor Rutherford.”

“How…”

“I was there too. Had you perished in the attempt, I would have finished her. As I had been keeping the streets of Kirkwall safe for years. Until Samson, in a delirious state, high on his dwarven-dust, pulled the stake from Corypheus’s heart. Two days later, he was up and working again. This time smarter. Only biting to feed, not to turn. He was reluctant to turn anyone else. Has been for years. Could be cause, I slay ever fledgling before they ever had a chance to leave their crypt.” Malcolm shrugged his shoulders, “and here we are. A big old happy slayer family. Please tell me you managed to find what I could not.”

Dorian opened the bag and pulled out the small box, “the memory crystal? We found it, but we don’t know how it works. Do you believe it holds the answer?”

“Has to. It’s the only thing Corypheus valued. Valued enough to travel nearly all of Thedas to keep hidden and retrieve. That foolish boy thought Corypheus was coming for him, no he was coming for that. It must contain something important. We just need to figure out how to make it work.” Malcolm looked out the large sheets of stained glass, “preferably before the sun comes up. Shit burns like the Void.”

Diana lifted the box from Dorian and pushed the little button they had discovered earlier. Reaching her hand inside she pulled the crystal out, “I read about these in a book today. They were called, Somnoborium ‘Vessels of Dreams.’ For what little remains of the old Tevinter ways, it was like memories. It didn’t say much more than that. I’m going to assume it was accessed using perhaps a special word or touch.”

Dorian fumbled through the pile of books, “hang on, I found a book with that title earlier!” Flipping through the pages he read quickly. “I think… I think I know what to do. Pass me the crystal, please.”

Holding it out to him, Dorian took it gently in his hand, “Na via lemo Victoria!” 

“Only the living know victory,” Diana muttered as the gem began to pulse, barely a candle flickering in the pitch darkness. 

“Manaveris Dracona!” Dorian shouted as he held it up higher.

“Long live the dragons,” Diana gasped as the gem hovered in the air, an eerie voice escaping the gem.

“I’ve tried everything. Poison, blessed water, a stake to the heart, fire, nothing affects me. All but one thing, sunlight. I made the mistake of catching my foot in a ray of light and my toes turned to dust! DUST!” the voice boomed, “it took nearly a month for them to grow back and I still cannot feel them as I once did. Perhaps one day, when I tire of this world and its boring cattle, I may walk into the light and end my suffering. For now, there is much left to learn and much left to do. Perhaps a trip to this new Tevinter will ease my sorrow.” The gem burst into a bright rainbow of light then grew dark again as it dropped into Dorian’s hand.

“I’m guessing that was Corypheus’s voice and that’s the big secret. He’s immune to everything, except sunlight… well… this is interesting.” Dorian toyed with his mustache as he placed the gem back into its velvet lined box. 

Kicking at a bit of debris Malcolm scoffed, “of course it’d be sunlight. Would make it damn near impossible for another vampire to kill him without risking his own neck.” 

“Is there no way to get him down off the wall and place him in the court yard at high noon?” Cullen scratched at his chin, the day-old growth of stubble itching his skin.

Shaking his head Malcolm sighed again, “no. Once that stake is pulled he’ll heal quickly and he’ll be hungry. Like his voice said, the rules don’t apply to him. Sunlight is the only way we destroy him and that’s where I’m out. One false step, and I’m dust.” Slapping his hands on his knees he got up, “let me take a look about the Undercroft, see what can be done. I’ll be back before you realize it.”

Huddling together, the group picked at the food and drink Malcolm had brought them. Trying to figure out some form of plan. Several moments later Malcolm returned. Sitting back upon the desk he tossed some more papers and wood into the fire, “the wall he’s staked to is flimsy. Might give with a bit of luck. It faces a nasty drop down the mountain side and in direct sunlight come dawn. We could try to chisel it out in the dark or you three could tackle it alone tomorrow. Your choice, I’m here to help best I can.”

“What if the stake comes loose while we chisel the wall?” Diana held her hand over her throat as she shivered.

Malcolm mulled it over a moment before he answered, “if I’m right, he’ll be weak, and he’ll need blood. Lots of it. Someone could hold the stake in his chest while we work away?”

Cullen pulled his retractable stake from his pocket, “better idea.” Flicking his wrist, while pushing the button the stake shot out, “we re-stake him. This could penetrate stone. Stick him to it tight we won’t have to worry about anything while we work. I only have one question,” sitting up straighter he looked Malcolm in the eyes, “what will happen to you, once we destroy Corypheus? There are rumors that you can…”

“Don’t get an old man’s hopes up,” Malcolm rose, “we do this now. I’ll pin the bastard. Vampire strength is something impressive. You three work on the wall. It’s just a bit before midnight now. I’m betting it’ll take a few hours before we get that wall free. Once it is, we wait for day light, then I’ll pull the plug as you release the wall.” 

Holding his hand out to take the stake, Cullen shook his head, “no good. It’s engraved in runes, it’ll sear your hand like a steak.”

Grinning widely again he chuckled, “this toy just keeps getting better.”

Together they lit some lamps, and gathered their supplies. Following Malcolm through the Keep to the Undercroft Cullen pulled out his metal stake. Tossing the mallet to Malcolm he placed the tip over Corypheus’s heart, “I’d say take your best whack at it, but I am rather fond of my hand.”

Letting out a hearty belly laugh Malcolm patted Cullen on the shoulder, “if you made this right, I wouldn’t worry about your hand.”

Cullen shut his eyes as Malcolm swung and nailed the thick head of the stake. Releasing it just in time, Malcolm’s strength buried the stake nearly to the hilt, the sound of cracking stone a clue that it had penetrated the wall, “there. Now,” ripping his own stake out he nodded, “let’s get to work. We’re losing night light.”

Hammers clattering away as they worked hard, and as fast as they could. Century old mortar and brick work slowly came apart. A couple hours in and Dorian had punched a small hole through, “I’ve broken through in this corner. I can see the stars,” a cold wind rushed past him and he shivered, “and I can feel the mountain air.”

“Good, keep pushing!” Malcolm yelled as he pulled another brick free. 

Another couple hours drifted away, and Diana mopped at the sweat slicking her forehead, “this is impossible,” knocking another brick free she shook her head, “Malcolm you need to get away, the day light will be cresting over those peaks soon. You need to get to safety.”

“As long as it doesn’t touch me, I’ll be fine,” knocking another brick free he pushed on the wall. “A couple more and I think I can shove this whole thing over.”

Cullen drew in a deep breath, “I’ll miss that stake,” he laughed as he finished wrenching another brick free.

“If the theory is correct you won’t need it anymore.” Malcolm gave the wall another shove and it heaved back out. “Alright, we can do this. Diana, can you see the sun yet?”

“NO!” Diana shot up, “you can’t do this! You’ve given so much. If this is right, his death might free you!”

Dorian popped another brick free, “there isn’t much holding this wall together. Malcolm take shelter. Please, only three or four more bricks and Cullen and I can handle this.”

Reluctantly Malcolm hid behind the door, peaking through the small window to watch as the rag tag bunch redoubled their efforts. All tired, and beyond exhaustion, they wrestled the last few bricks free. Sunlight was beginning to pour in through the broken wall, “NOW!!” Malcolm yelled as Dorian and Cullen shoved with everything they had. The wall wiggled, buckled, mortar snapping and bricks popping but inch by painful inch it moved. Cullen gave it another thrust, Dorian watching and matching his timing. Another loud pop and the wall slipped down, the sunlight cascading into the room, as the wall tumbled to the floor. Bits of brick and mortar breaking off as it slid out into the new opening.

Everyone turned to hear it. An unworldly howl escaping the skeletal jaw of Corypheus as the bones began to brighten red, then glow white hot again as bits of it flaked away. No one moved, no one breathed as the creature cursed, and twisted, clawing at the metal stake buried in his chest. All as the sunlight ate away the bones, until there was nothing left. His heart, the stake still buried in it began to flush with blood, turning a bright red before it started to beat. Beating harder, and harder until it burst. Blood spurted into the air, dried in the rays and disappeared into nothingness.

“It’s done.” Cullen gasped looking at the white imprints upon the stone. The only evidence of anything having happened in that room. “Malcolm?” 

Diana walked up to the door and slowly opened it. There sitting against the wall was Malcolm Hawke, a smile upon his face, his eyes shut. Bending down she lifted his lip, “no fangs.” 

Cullen pushed past Dorian, “I’m a doctor, let me check him.” Pulling up Malcolm’s coat he checked for a pulse. It was impossible to tell with the beating of his own heart so heavy in his body. In frustration he dug the mirror from his breast pocket. Holding it under Malcolm’s nose, they all held their breath. Leaning against the stone, Cullen’s shoulders sagged, and he let out a puff of air.

“What is it!? Is he alive, what? Tell me!” Diana tugged on Cullen’s jacket, nearly sending him tumbling to the ground. 

Steadying himself he pocketed the mirror, “he’s alive. If only barely.” Pulling out he vial of blessed water, he raised it to Malcolm’s face, “no glow. He’s human.”

“Maker’s breath,” Dorian ran his hands down his face, “then, the theories were true. It’s over! Maker it’s finally over!”

“We need to get Malcolm out of here. Take the tomes you want for your collection Dorian, we are going home. With one stop along the way.”

“Kirkwall,” Diana smiled as she took Cullen’s hands in hers, “oh I do love a happy ending.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was completely something out of my normal work, and I really pushed myself to finish it in under a month. All in all I'm pretty proud of it and really enjoyed writing it. There may or may not be a sequel in the future (perhaps a little like the Hammer films lol). I do hope you have enjoyed this and I look forward to entertaining you with further stories to come. Cheers!


End file.
